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targaryenrealnessdarling · 7 months

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed). And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

515 notes · View notes

sluttywonwoo · 4 days

Text

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof.

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well.

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes.

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too.

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed.

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat.

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung.

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully.

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked.

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.

“Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left.

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side.

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit.

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled.

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth.

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them.

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over.

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left.

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too.

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker.

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked.

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows.

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar.

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho.

The pool area was completely empty by then.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave.

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands.

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered.

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate.

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject.

“Are you cold?” Minho asked.

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him.

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water.

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.

“This is nice,” he said.

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look.

“What?” You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip.

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted.

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression.

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes...

“What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for.

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed.

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him.

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him.

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed.

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind.

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini.

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied.

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked.

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off.

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm.

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage.

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder.

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away.

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!”

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time.

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out.

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally.

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series #stray kids x female reader

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rebouks · 3 months

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Previous // Next

Hey Mat, Long time no see, or write, or anything really.. feel free to rip this letter to shreds if you feel like it, I wouldn’t blame you. I didn’t exactly plan on dipping like that and I’m sure you’re probably pissed, or were but if you somehow manage to get through this stupid thing, then thanks… I’m doing better, thankfully.. sorted my shit out, like you said, as much as I think I can anyway… I’ve been clean for a while now, bar a few mishaps but I guess I should know by now that fucking up is just a part of myself that I can’t really change. I always liked that about you guys though, how you never judged me for it, I’ve found some pretty neat people here too, for the most part. I kinda cut my parents off too, but I dunno if I feel bad about that or not yet, guess I’m still figuring it out. I might give em another chance but half of me expects nothing to change, so I dunno… I kinda miss the Bay n’ stuff sometimes too y’know? Maybe not the rain though.. but I think I got so used to leaving things behind I didn’t really think it’d be any different this time around, maybe I was wrong. I’m doing okay, I guess.. but there’s a piece of me that feels like maybe I left a part of myself behind too. That sounds a bit dramatic huh? I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this… I suppose I’ve kinda been letting myself think about the past recently, someone got into my head about using it to move ahead instead of running from it and like, the elephant in the room n’ all that? I’m grateful you talked some sense into me before I did something I might’ve regretted not that I would have I didn’t mean to put you in that position though and I’m sorry if you thought maybe it was your fault that I left, cos it wasn’t. So uh can’t believe I just wrote uh out but I just wanted to apologise for leaving the way I did, without saying anything, and I hope none of you hate me for it and I hope you’re doing okay, no, better than okay! I really hope you worked things out with the whole Pixie thing too, I still think that was amazing, what you did I think it’d be neat if you had a relationship with her. Sometimes I wonder if I helped at all hopefully she’s doing good, either way though cos whatever you decided was for the best, no doubt. This letter is a rambling mess, I know.. but hopefully it’s better than nothing you can burn it if you want Can you tell I flunked lang/lit? I skipped write a letter day too I guess, my bad hah.. never was any good with words, written or spoken, but I’m sure you remember that. Anyway, say hi to everyone for me if you want, but you don’t have to - especially Oscar & Courtney, they don’t know how much they helped me.. and lil Robin, but I bet he’s not so little anymore. I shouldn’t have waited so long but uh.. better late than never? Okay peace.. T x ps. I almost didn’t post this but someone practically dragged me to the post box and now I’m nervous at the thought of you reading it.. which I’ll bet you find pretty funny, which is why I told you I guess pps. I don’t expect you to write back so dw about it if you don’t

TEXT MSSG:

Pick you up at 12? x Can’t make it… Why not? I’m sick I already bought tickets! Do you want me to come over, nurse you back to health? ;) I’m good, take someone else x Fiiine, get some rest sweet cheeks xx

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #matilda douglas #tristen burks #he's here in spirit ok? ok #everybody say ough #so nice to hear from triss but we wanna see his lovely faaaace #so does tilda.. but don't tell her i told you that #she's too busy pining to come out with u now mr mystery man #😭

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keeksandgigz · 6 months

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roll for initiative (part two of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: You venture into your new position at Eddie's cafe, but you seem to be having a hard time. Eddie gives you hell for refusing to be trained. The confrontation comes to a head after you say something you shouldn't have. A heated game of DnD leaves you wondering about the purpose of this place. Things heat up after you and Eddie close the store alone.

cw: 6.8k words, swearing, modern setting, Eddie and reader being mean to each other, shitty description of a DnD game, teeny bit of angst (sorry), horny sexual tension, smut, spanking, choking, not quite piv yet, fingering, denial this is 18+ minors dni!!

a/n: Surprise! One day early because I'm an impatient little shit. i dunno how to play DnD i'm going off whatever my boyfriend tells me. also kill em all IS the best metallica album, argue with the wall. Debated on making it a two- parter but i wanted to get to the smut <3 pls like and reblog! feedback always appreciated and my ask box is always open if u wanna talk!!!

baby taglist: @corrodedcoffincumslut, @sleepy-bunnie,, @crybabyddl (let me know if you want to be added!)

Eddie's right.

You're indeed crashing and burning as you make those stupidly named lattes, but the rest of the crew is nice enough to help you along the way. Virginia really is coming into her own, quickly mastering every drink that is thrown her way.

Yet you can't shake off the feeling of Eddie stalking towards you, his hot breath on your face. How it didn’t scare you, rather, it excited you. You enjoy picking fights with him, ripping him apart and him doing the same to you. It's not healthy, but it helps with your anger.

“Those were three pumps of elderflower. I believe you need four for a large, sweetheart. Crashing and burning so soon?” he comes up behind you, startling you.

“Get the fuck off of me before I throw this scalding hot drink at you” not when you're working. You cannot take his taunts while working.

“Just checking up on you” he shrugs “maybe you might have changed your mind about me training you. I know these are not the dumb little detox drinks you do at your cafe. Which is really what makes the store much more interesting and attractive, doesn’t it?”

“Eddie I swear to God” it becomes more than taunts. He seriously wants to fuck with your brain.

“Jeff” he snaps his fingers towards the guy “I’m gonna go take my lunch, you’re in charge ‘til I’m back” his attention diverts away from you for a second, then back to you. “Could you be a dear and make me an extra hot flat white with almond milk? Add a couple pumps of Irish cream syrup in there. I’m expecting a white dot, after all if you’re so perfect you don’t need training that’s gonna be a walk in the park for ya, huh?” he leans against the counter and he’s so condescending it makes your knees tremble.

“Yeah, duh. I’ll spit in it for ya too. Sounds good?” you panic a bit. Flat whites are not your forte.

“I knew you’ve been spitting in my drinks, sweetheart. Kinda hot, to be honest. But that’s a violation, wouldn’t wanna get Jim involved, do we?” he raises his eyebrows at you, looking down at you, making you feel like a coffee bean on the ground. Kinda hot.

“I was just joking, dickhead”

“Hm. Better be. Another filthy word from you and I’m sending you home.” he whispers. “Alright, going on my lunch. Virginia, you’re off you can go home, Chrissy, take your last break in thirty minutes” and with that, he disappears to one of the tables, watching you make his drink.

That should be a form of cruel and unusual punishment. Just him staring at you, making sure you get his drink right. Pull two ristretto shots.

You aren't buzzing anymore, rather, your brain begins shutting off, drained by all the tension that has been building between you and Eddie. Two pumps of Irish cream. Maybe you actually aren't good enough to be here. Froth the almond milk. Maybe he's right, maybe you are meant to work in a mediocre cafe, making shitty drinks. Espresso first, then milk. You aren't good enough for this level of mastery.

Fuck. No white dot.

You tremble as you walk towards Eddie, sitting at his table, watching you bring him a cup of mediocre coffee.

“No white dot” he says, looking at you with displeasure.

“I’m sorry, I-”he interrupts you.

“You wanna get trained or are you gonna be a little know-it-all and then deliver me this?” he sips on his flat white.

“Ok, fine. Train me, whatever.”Embarrassment overtakes you, wanting a hole to form under your feet and engulf you.

He's right, he has been right all along. Tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“You okay there? Y’know I was joking, right? It doesn’t matter I just-” a spark of guilt lights itself in his throat, you look like you're about to cry.

“Can I take a second?” you say, the knot in your throat threatening to snap any second.

“Yeah, um go- go take your break” he breathes. Fuck, he's made you cry.

You run off towards the back, wanting to disappear. Everything that has happened within those past two days begin to wash over you.

Your cafe is gone, the project you had worked on with your dad before he got sick, gone for the next year. And he’d likely not see it reopen.

Eddie being an asshole, holding a grudge on you because you took his customers, making your life a living hell.

You sit in the back as you wipe some tears that fell from your eyes. Across the room, there's a door that you have not seen before, and it's ajar.

Curiosity gets the best of you, as you walk into a small, secluded room. It's full of beakers and jars of ingredients, really selling the whole alchemist thing. You look through the ingredients elderflower, rose, peppermint, honey, basil. Basil syrup sounds disgusting.

You turn towards the work bench, noticing a bottle full of clear liquid labeled lavender syrup. You open it and immediately smell the astringent flavor coming from the bottle. You pour some on your finger and take a taste. Ew.

He needs a better lavender syrup recipe.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie’s voice makes you drop the bottle to the floor, shattering and spilling the astringent liquid on the floor.

“Oh- shit sorry! I was just- i just got curious”

“You can’t just come in here and act like you own the place. Curious my ass, you were trying to steal” he accuses, and that hurts you.

“You know I won’t fucking do that, I take my work seriously. Also your lavender syrup tastes like ass, and basil syrup? That sounds foul” you wince, stepping over the broken glass, to make your way back to the front.

He grabs your arm and stops you. “Aren’t you gonna clean that up? Broom’s in the closet” he says, offering you a smug smile.

“Get the fuck away from me, asshole” you reply, jerking away from his grip.

“Alright that’s it” is all he says before he slams you against the wall.

He's close. He's so fucking close.

Your back slams against the brick, hitting a random canvas panel. You can feel his breath on your face, the smell of coffee and cologne inundating your senses.

“You have been a fucking pain in my ass since you opened your dumb little cafe. You’ve been rude, unruly, untidy and down right mean towards me, and I’m fucking over it” he seethes, he has you caged in between his tattooed arms and all you can think of is tracing every line of his tattoos with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s been four fucking hours, y’hear me? Four hours and I’m sick of you. Y’think you’re cute? You’re a fucking brat, sweetheart, and I don’t like dealing with brats like you.” Your stomach feels funny, like you're taking on a challenge rather than a scolding.

“Clean your shit up and go home, I don’t wanna see your fucking face today. Come back when you have gained some common sense in that empty fucking head” he lowers his arms, but you aren't done.

“Or what? You think you’re so scary, Eddie, with your stupid tattoos, your fucking stupid hair and your stupid satanic shirts. I don’t give a shit who you are, I’m employed to work here and you can’t fucking send me home because you don’t like me. I’ll fucking report you, freak”

Freak. His breath hitches at that, years of high school bullying getting under his skin again, making him swallow hard at the unwelcome memory of being slammed against a locker on Monday mornings before class. He stiffens up.

“Alright” he swallows “clean this up and get back to work, I don’t wanna see you right now” you notice that his demeanor has changed, you visibly hit a nerve. Guilt pools at your chest.

“But what about- about the training?” you ask, voice hitching.

“I’ll get Gareth to train you, Virginia should have gone home already. That way we’re both happy. Take tomorrow off, I’ll see you Tuesday” and with that he leaves.

He keeps himself buried in his office until the end of your shift. He can't bear to stand the sight of you, not after you had called him a freak. That stung more than whatever stupid insult you could have flung his way.

When you turn up on Tuesday, Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“He took the day off,” Steve says. And you feel real fucking bad. You're scheduled for a mid- shift from three to seven.

“Hey” Jeff says “we’re closing early today ‘cause we’re doing a DnD campaign after. Since Eddie’s not here, would you mind taking over for me so I can start setting up? We close at six-thirty, so after that you can, like, sweep, do dishes and then you can go home”

You aren't in the mood for a snide remark or a witty comment, so you just agree. “Is Eddie gonna be here tonight?” you ask. You’ve been trying to hound him to apologize for whatever happened the day before, it's clear he's avoiding you.

He was supposed to be on the schedule.

“Yeah uh” he replies “he’s our DM, so we kinda need him” he shrugs.

“DM?” you froth a cup of oatmilk, turning towards him while he's making his drinks.

“Yeah. Dungeon Master?” he gives you a Isn’t that obvious? expression and goes back to his iced hazelnut macchiato.

“Kinky” you retort, he laughs a bit.

At six-thirty you lock up the store and you confine yourself to the back for dishes. Keeping an ear out for Eddie’s voice, hoping he’d show up before 7.

Colette left with Steve to work on the Halloween menu and “I don’t fuck with that nerd stuff” said Steve, fixing his glasses after putting his coat on.

“…no Henderson you don’t get it “Kill ‘Em All” is definitely Metallica’s best album, are you shitting me? …No don’t come at me with that “Enter Sandman” bullshit you’re so basic for that, you fucking poser” your ears perk up at that. It's definitely Eddie.

You peek your head out of the back door to see him set up a big table, followed by a bunch of what look like high school students as they sit down, with their spiral notebooks and pens.

A bunch of small figurines scattered on the cardboard mat as Eddie sits at the head of the table, pulling out a leather bound folder covered in stickers and a cardboard screen.

They're serious about this.

You're too busy staring at the crowded table to notice Eddie running towards you.

"Daddy didn't teach you it's rude to stare?"

You press yourself against the green tile wall to let him pass, words caught in your throat as you follow him into his office.

"Apparently daddy didn't teach you that stalking is bad either. What is it? Need somethin'?" he spits out and you can feel the venom in his words.

"Yeah, I just" you clear your throat. Talking was hard. He cocks an eyebrow at you as he begins rummaging through his desk drawers.

"Well?"

"I just wanted to apologize for-"

"For being a bitch the other day? Took you long enough" he scoffs as he retrieves a small tin box containing what you assume are dice.

"Um- yeah. I guess that" you shrug and turn your feet to leave the door.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. It's not a real apology otherwise, is it?" he has this ability to make you feel so incredibly small with only the power of his words. Like he's talking to a toddler.

"I don't think that's necessary, Eddie, I mean um- I have to get back to work" you protest.

"You can go back to work when you give me a full apology" he's ticking you off, gloating in his victory of you admitting defeat. The white banner you're waving slowly turning red.

"You're being a cunt, take the apology and go play your stupid nerd game" you snap, and you can see his lips curling in a wicked grin. Challenge accepted.

"All this talk of me kicking you to the curb for your filthy mouth really isn't sticking huh? Sorry sweetheart, can't accept an apology you don't mean" he shrugs, heading out of his office, you follow him suit.

"Eddie what the fuck?! Are you actually mental?" you want to strangle him, shove those dice so far down his throat he chokes and dies.

"I'd recommend you scrub those dishes really hard, I can still see the grime on the blenders. If you'll excuse me, I gotta lead my party through the rivers of Bagodan" he winks and then he walks over to his table, leaving you mortified.

You do a once- over with the dishes, while hearing Eddie's shrill voice screech and laugh every time one of his players miss. What's so fucking funny about a couple kids rolling dice?

"Looks like you've made it to the last river" he narrates in a solemn voice, deeper, hotter "Oh, but what is that? You hear shrieking from a distance. It's a sphynx. To cross the river you have to behead the sphynx and bring it to the king of Bagodan. Only then he will grant you access to the wings of Saurion the Elder, and you... will be... free" he says in a whispered tone.

"What do you do, my brave adventurers?"

"Shit" you hear one of the kids swear, he's tall with black hair. "We don't have enough hit points to kill the sphynx AND get through the king's palace guards"

"You’re astute dipshit, congrats!" says another, a girl, looking much younger than the rest.

"We would have had enough points if Dustin here, hadn't fucking sold his to the market for a stupid cloak" says Gareth, shoving the kid who you assume is Dustin

"it was aN INVISIBILITY CLOAK" Dustin yells. The room booms in laughter at the kid's tantrum.

It makes you think. About how you've never had a group of friends like that. Someone to share a common interest with. Sure, you have Colette, but you've moved to town just fairly recently, and you have lived and breathed work for the first two years. No friends to make when you're cooped up home buried in projects among projects. No friends to make when your dad is sick and you have to take him to the hospital on Saturdays for his treatment. You sigh a bit at that. Maybe your cafe exploding is the catalyst that is gonna bring you a new life, a new perspective.

Coming to a store that has unity as a top value really makes you reflect on how lonely your life has been so far.

"Alright children, let's take a break and you can talk strategy. Anyone want a drink?" He stands up from his chair and walks towards the bar. Startled, you go back to the sink and begin scrubbing.

"Y'know you can join us, right?" he leans against the green tile wall, looking at you.

"Join in on that nerd shit? No, thanks. My shift is over" you say putting the last blender on the drying rack and heading to the back.

He follows you "Okay, whatever. I just wanted to tell you it's gonna be me and you tomorrow. Chrissy said she can't make it. Something about midterms" and you roll your eyes.

"Fucking perfect. Tell me in what world does this shit always happen to me" you say exasperated, taking off your apron, which allows your shirt to rise just enough that it gives Eddie a peek of your tummy. Enough to make him gulp a little. Enough to distract him for ten seconds.

He shakes his head. "Listen, I'm not happy about it either, but let's keep it civil, okay? I do my thing, you do yours, we're outta here by 9 pm" he offers, leaning over the metal lockers.

You're not sure if it was the Dungeon Master demeanor he keeps on for the sake of his game or what, but he feels so tall. The thought of it makes you shiver. You put on your jacket.

"How you gettin' home?" he asks.

"Driving" you lie, your car broke down the day before, but you don't want him offering you a ride.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow for closing, then" he says, giving you a tight smile.

"Yeah, bye" you respond hastily, heading out towards the bus stop. Eddie keeps an eye on you through the store window the whole time.

Wednesday night at the "Mad Alchemist" is busier than you expected. Steve left for the evening, leaving you and Eddie to man the fort by yourselves.

Meaning you have to watch him flirt with every fucking customer. Young, old, boy, girl. His self assured demeanor is like a magnet to those coffee- hungry teens, the older women just blush and deliver him a meek "aw, stop it, Eddie" swatting the air and giggling.

Because you both have been so busy, it has not given you time to run your mouth and deliver him some snarky comment.

By 8pm, the store is closed. You have an hour to sweep, clean the counters, mop and do the dishes while Eddie counts the money at the register.

There is a tense quietness in the cafe. Almost as if you know that if one opened their mouths the world would explode. Or you’d start fucking, whichever one comes first. There is no noise aside from the register opening, the broom dragging across the floor and Eddie whistling.

After a day of talking, listening, screaming, shouting, the last thing you want to do is hear Eddie whistle. You let him do it, one minute, two minutes, five minutes in hopes he would get tired.

“Eddie, please” you whine.

“Helps me count money better,” he shrugs, beginning his atrocious whistling again.

You wait one, two, five minutes again. The noise of the sweep and the whistling and the money become too much for you, so in an exasperated rage, you kick the chair in front of you.

“Eddie shUT THE FUCK UP!”

The noise of the chair is the only sound in the building. Eddie stops counting, and stops whistling.

He's just staring at you. At the fallen chair. At the broom next to your feet. You find the floor to be really interesting.

“Pick it up.” Eddie’s voice is distant. A few seconds go by, and your eyes are still on the floor.

The sound of paper being put down and the stomping of heavy boots follow, until his boots arrive in your line of sight. You can't help but raise your head.

“What part of ‘pick it up’ does not register in that head? Hm? Do you kick chairs at home?”

Defeated, you shake your head.

“Do you call your daddy names?”

Another head shake.

“Do you spit in your daddy’s coffee in the morning?” his voice becomes a whisper, so, so close to your face. So close to your lips.

“I didn’t-” he cuts you off.

“I don’t appreciate liars, sweetheart. Did you spit in my drink?” he's cornering you, making you feel small.

You nod. “Only once, though” you defend yourself.

“Only once” he mocks, chuckling to himself “sixteen.” he mutters.

“Sixteen is the number of times, from the first time i stepped foot in your goddamn cafe, I’ve seen you spit in my fuckin’ drink” he seethes, no, growls.

“Now you’re fucking lying” you interject, finding a small crumb of courage within you.

“Don’t act cute, I’ve seen you. Pick the chair up” he says, his chin tilting towards the chair on the floor.

“I can’t pick it up if your stupid arm’s in the way, can I?” he grunts and moves his arm. You bend over and picked the chair up, breathing through your teeth. You're furious.

“Watch your attitude, here we don’t-”

You snap your neck around “You’re a fucking control freak, that’s what you are” you mutter. There's that word again. Freak.

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that word again” he's furious.

You turn around to face him. It's your turn to be close “Or what? You gonna spank me?” it's barely a whisper, looking at him through your lashes. A challenge.

He exhales, crossing his arms “You know what? That’s the best idea you’ve had since you’ve stepped foot in this place. Bend over the table” He whispers, and you freeze.

If there is a definition to fuck around and find out, you're it.

“Seems you might be a bit hard of hearing, sweetheart. I said bend over.” he says, more gently, yet keeping that domineering aura to him. He nudges your arm.

You quietly follow through.

“Now you’re following orders. Before I start I need to know you’re okay with this” he whispers, caressing your back in an almost soothing manner.

You nod.

He tuts “None of that shit. I’m not doing anything until I have your green light. With words”

“I-” words suddenly become hard. You swallow and breathe through your nose “I’m- I’m okay with this”

There is no denying you're extremely turned on, in addition to being revved up by your previous fight. It feels like wildfire spreading itself from every tip of your body, finding a home right between your legs.

“Alright, good. If you want me to stop we can stop at any time, just say ‘chainmail’” he says, looking around to check if the blinds had been lowered. He has a safeword. He knows what he's doing.

“O-okay” you say with all the power you can muster.

“You wanna act like a toddler, sweetheart? I’ll treat ya like a fuckin’ toddler” he says, before delivering the first smack right on the meat of your left butt cheek.

You’ve tried spanking before, with previous partners, but this is different. The smacks are calculated, like he knows where to hit. A yelp escapes you.

“Need ya to count” he says, caressing the area he just hit.

“‘Kay, fuck. One” you exhale, still feeling his handprint on your ass. The red hot sting from the impact leaving tiny pinpricks through the fabric of your jeans.

Smack. Two.

“How ‘bout this?” he stops, speaking to no one, really. “How ‘bout I give you one spank for every time you’ve spit in my coffee, hm?”

That makes you tremble a bit. Sixteen slaps.

“I dunno if I can, I mean I-”

“Then you know what to say if it gets too much, right? Say ‘Yes, Eddie, I do’” his voice makes your knees give out as his other hand, the one that isn't squeezing and groping your ass, makes its way into your hair and pulls.

“Ow- Fuck, Jesus Christ Eddie!” you yell, but the pull at your scalp makes you wish he’d drop the antics, pull your pants down and fuck you immediately.

“Not what I wanna hear, sweetheart. Try that again” He smacks your ass again, pulling his hand out of your hair to hold your back down from the waist.

“Three, fuck. Yes, Eddie, I-I do” you exhale and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Good girl,” he says. Good girl. He could easily smack you in the face and that is would shock you less. Where the fuck did he learn all this shit?

By the time you’ve reached spank number ten you think you're ready to tap out. Tears welling in your eyes, making your vision go blurry. You're turned on, but Eddie’s heavy hand is becoming too painful.

He notices you trying to squirm away from him with every hit of his hand, all he says is “You know what to say, don’t you, sweetheart?”

But you let him keep going. Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen.

The last slap feels like the roughest, leaving in its wake the phantom of a heavy hand. His hand rubbing circles on your ass, almost like he doesn't feel ready to stop touching you.

You turn your head around, so you're able to see his face.

“Mmmm, so what now?” you ask, still hazy “Gonna take me home, Eddie? Finish the job?”it's like your brain has forgotten who you are talking to.

“C’mere” he says, sitting you down on the table, your ass rough and sore under the fabric of your pants.

You can feel the slick feeling between your legs through the seam of your black jeans, hoping he’d move you to keep going, take you home, his office, his van, anywhere.

His body settles between your legs as his hands run through the expanse of your stomach, your back. Your hands make their way to the buckle of his belt, trying to quickly undo his jeans. Eddie inhales as if to convince himself to stop you as he grabs your wrists and pushes them to your chest, his belt left unbuckled “Not tonight,” he murmurs.

You pout in protest.

“Aww, you’re pouting” he mocks, a dry laugh escapes his lips. It brings a twang of embarrassment "pouting 'cause I'm not letting you take my dick in your mouth, sweetheart?" he taunts.

“I‘m not pouting” you mutter, looking at the floor. His hands grab your chin, lifting your eyes to make you look up at him. He looks so tall standing over you like that, eyes still glossed over, pupils blown from the spanking he’s just given you.

“You look at me when I speak to you, yeah?” Oh fuck. You know better this time.

“Yeah” you croak out, nodding your head in case he doesn't get the message.

“Yeah? You liked getting spanked? Being put in your place?” his demeanor never fails in making you feel impossibly small.

The hand that holds your chin travels down your neck and you lean into his touch, in the way his hand wraps itself around your throat, warm and rough. Who are you to say he isn't gonna strangle you and kill you?

But the feeling of his hand around the column of your neck, covering its whole surface area feels too intoxicating, like you want him to make you stop thinking. Your breath hitches.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have my rings on. With the way you’ve been running your mouth you would’ve more than deserved it” his grip on your neck going from resting to actually applying pressure to the sides of your throat. You gasp.

He just watches you, eyes glossy and desperate while you try to press your thighs together to relieve some pressure. Poor thing. He almost feels bad for you. The way he sees you keen into his touch, labored breath, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.

“We can’t do this here, Eddie. The health violations” you say, barely a whisper, mustering whatever breath and thought you can. Your brain feels foggy and fuzzy with the slight pressure of air being constricted. He chuckles.

“Didn’t you go to UCLA or something? Aren’t you supposed to be really smart?” his tone is mocking, you swallow at the embarrassment, hand letting up on your throat to grab your hand. He isn't here to be soft with you. He is here to make a point.

“Me choking you got you actin’ all dumb already?’M impressed. C’mon get off the table, we can’t be here” he says, making you stand up.

“Where- where are we going?” you feel winded, and you haven't even done anything. He leads you through the cafe, the bar, the back of house, where the drying dishes sit abandoned on the rack. Right at the threshold to his back office, the cold green tile arch pressing against your back.

“I don’t know, but I really wanna kiss you right now.” and you feel like your breath has just gotten knocked out of you. He wants to kiss you?

"You wanna- huh?" he slams you against the wall, just t prove a point "Shut the fuck up" he says as he puts his lips on yours. Famished, animalistic.

There is no room for gentleness. No room for sweet caresses and soft praises. His hands groping and feeling your hips, grinding into him. The friction against his tattered jeans make a whine escape you. Too much and not enough.

His teeth clash with yours as you both open your mouths, the way he tastes made you dizzy. His mint gum and cigarettes inundate your senses as you pull at the hair tie that is keeping Eddie's unruly hair in place.

Reaching under the mane of hair, you pull at his nape, where his curls are smaller, more defined. He groans.

His nose skims your jaw and licks at the hinge between the bone and your neck, making you yelp. A small oh escapes you when his hands work to untuck your shirt out of your jeans, his cold hands sneaking past the barrier of clothing to touch at the skin of your stomach, the sides of your breasts.

His mouth is warm against your neck, tracing every ridge, every line, every mole, 'til he reaches the juncture between your neck and your shoulder and he bites.

"Eddie, you fucking freak don't bite me" you hiss, head thrown back as he lifts your shirt up, leaving it completely abandoned on the floor.

He moves you off the wall and into his office, mouth not stopping his assault on your neck, stumbling towards his cluttered desk. With one move, a space big enough for you to sit is created. His shirt comes off in the process. His pale chest, skinny, but toned and littered with tattoos, is the only thing you are able to pay attention to.

"I hear that fucking word come outta your mouth again I'll-" he begins.

"You what? More spanking? Consider me terrified" you interrupt, all an evil plan to egg him on. Blinking your eyes up at him. He is seething.

"God, do you ever shut up?" he asks, a groan leaving his lips continuing to kiss you, teeth and tongue and spit, his hands coming out from under your shirt to grab your chin.

You look up at him, hair wild and unruly, eyes blown out, a wicked glint in his eye, almost like he's plotting something.

“Open your mouth” he says, and you looked at him, a puzzled look on your face. He squeezes your cheeks in response, forcing your mouth open. “You fucking brat” he mutters.

You keep your mouth open, expecting his finger, something. Instead, a glob of spit makes its way onto your tongue. He spit in your mouth. You throb.

“Eddie what the fuck-” you begin, but he interrupts you.

“You didn’t seem to mind spitting in my coffee, did you? Consider this a payback. Swallow it.” he smirks against your lips, lightly tapping his fingers on your cheek, not quite a slap. You obey immediately for the first time that night.

His hand travels down to the seam of your jeans, your breath becoming more labored with all the building tension from the night.

“Eddie…please” you whine, arching into his hand, not wanting to pull back anymore. You want release, brain hazy with the feeling of being under him, the way his rough hands are touching you, exploring you, grabbing and groping at the curves of your body as you arch into him.

His hand begins moving back and forth, the heel of his palm making direct contact with the seam of your pants, forcing a strangled whine out of you.

You grind your hips in sync with his hand, as the other sits on your cheek, cupping it, moaning in his mouth at the small amount of friction he's giving you. “Can I take your pants off?” he asks, soft against your mouth. You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He quickly makes work of taking your shoes and jeans off, pooled at his feet while his hands caress and grope their way up your thighs.

“You’re cute when you’re not being a cunt, you know that?” he whispers against your mouth, hand ghosting over your panties, practically feeling the heat radiating off of you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you say through gritted teeth, motioning to hit him in the chest. He stops you, grabbing your wrists with his hands.

“I suggest keeping that filthy mouth at bay if you really want me to do something about that big, wet patch on your panties, hm?” he whispers, licking your bottom lip, his hand still keeping an iron grip on your wrists.

“How ‘bout you stop being a cunt and fuck me?” you’ve had enough of his teasing and taunting.

“Who said anything about fucking?” he chuckles, his hand moving down to grope at your ass. “No, see, that would be improper, don’t you think? Fucking your boss in his office. You kinky bitch” he delivers a sharp smack down to your ass, reviving the dull sting from the spanking earlier.

“You’re not my fucking boss, Eddie. Stop talking and- ohmygod”

His other hand begins massaging over the crotch of your panties, making direct contact with your clit over the fabric. “Made you this wet from spanking you? Think you might have actually been the freak this whole time, sweetheart.” He hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties “Lift.” He taps your thigh, you immediately lift your hips to let him take your panties off.

He laughs when he sees the mess that he’s made of your pussy.

“Fuck stop- stop laughing” you whisper out while his hands begin to spread your legs further.

“I think you secretly love me laughing at you. You think you’re so tough, bein’ all mean, callin’ me a freak like it doesn’t turn you on just imagining how much of a fucking freak I really am, huh sweetheart?” he skims your jaw with his nose, his words making you shiver as you clench around nothing.

His free hand sneaking its way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you squeak.

Your hips lift off the desk, looking to find some kind of stimulation aside from Eddie’s cruel teasing touches.

He looks at you through his dark lashes “What is it, baby?” baby. baby. baby. The nickname makes your head spin.

“Eddie, I- fuck- please! I need-” your hips arch off the wooden surface as you feel his fingers prod your entrance.

“You need my fingers? Can you ask me nicely?” you want to kill him. He's reveling in the torture that he's putting you through.

“I f-ucking ah hate you” but you aren't really sure if you believe that yourself.

“You hate me sweetheart? I’m hurt. You won’t mind then if I just leave you here, do you?” he caresses over your inner thigh, the tips of his fingers coated in slick, clear arousal.

“No!” your hips lift once again “your fingers…please” His smile is pleased as one of his fingers enter you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” He's making your head spin, a choked noise leaves your lips as he pumps his finger in and out, finally getting the stimulation you need.

“More” you whisper, his other hand still on your throat.

“So greedy. Y’gonna thank me? Say ‘thank you, Eddie’”

At that point you can't even think about acting up. “F-fuck. Thank- thank you Eddie” and with that, he adds another finger.

God, you already feel so full and teetering the edge.

“Good girl. Now that I think about it, I believe you owe me an apology” he begins, his fingers working mercilessly inside you, while a string of breathy ah ah ahs are all the sounds you could muster.

“You were so mean to me the other day, I didn’t appreciate your tone while you were trying to apologize” he taunts, his fingers prodding deeper inside you. A small yelp escapes you.

“You were- you were ah” his fingers curl on your g-spot and your vision goes white.

“What was that? I was what, baby?” he begins to thumb at your clit, smiling like a maniac at the state he's reducing you in.

“Oh yes there” no idea how you're gonna finish your sentence.

“Feels good huh? Needa finish what you were saying, sweetheart, can’t have you going stupid on me just yet” his hand on your throat moves up to your cheek, delivering a couple light smacks to your face. You clench.

“Fuck, uh, you we-were being a oh god cunt” you say, mustering all the mental strength you can.

“Is that right? Funny how my fingers are in yours right now and you don’t seem to complain.” He laughs to himself, his thumb speeding up its assault on your clit.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I just need you to say ‘Sorry Eddie, I won’t be a bitch to you again.’ Can you say that or is your brain too fucking far gone to understand a single word i’m saying?” he teases, which briefly brings you back from the ecstasy of Eddie’s fingers working wonders on you.

“Fuck you, Eddie” you hiss through your teeth, immediately regretting it at the feeling of the coil in your belly beginning to tighten.

“Oh. It’s like that then. Alright” he simply says as he picks up his pace. Head thrown back as you revel in the feeling of nearing the edge of your release.

“Oh shit, get-getting close” you breathe.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum” he smiles, a wicked show of bared teeth that only makes you both want to punch him and fuck him.

“Fuck n- Oh God- ‘m not apologizing for- for shit” you arch your back, trying to make yourself cum before he changes his mind.

“Fucking apologize” he insists.

“Fuck you” you say, followed by the unwelcome feeling of emptiness as he takes his fingers out. You really thought he was bluffing.

An empty ache grows in your stomach, feeling unfulfilled and disappointed. You sit there in disbelief, as he cleans his fingers off with a tissue.

“Pity” he shrugs “Get dressed, I’m taking you home” he turns around, heading towards the front.

You throw the box of kleenex at his head. You miss.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” you jump off his desk, ignoring the dull throb between your legs as you put your panties and jeans back on, following the trail of your clothes he left in his wake.

“Could’ve said sorry” he just says, closing up the register, while you put on your shirt and shoes “C’mon my van is around the back” he offers, grabbing his keys.

“I’m not fucking getting in your car. I can drive” you protest.

“Yeah, uh huh, you and what car, you fucking liar? Saw you at the bus stop the other day, and your car isn’t in the parking lot. You either let me drive or you can sleep in here tonight.”

You let him drive you home. The sound of Judas Priest blaring through the speaker only makes the stubborn silence between you two louder.

The ten minute drive to your house feels like an hour, as you itch to get off the dingy van and take care of what he left unfinished.

He finally parks up in front of your house, you quickly book it towards your door as he shouts “You’re welcome sweetheart” before you fumble with the keys and enter inside. He stays there until you do.

Your dad was asleep already, so you crack his bedroom door to check up on him. You sigh. Everything seems to be alright.

Once all the lights are off, you run towards your room. Still in disbelief of what happened with Eddie, you strip off your coffee- smelling clothes, wincing at the thought of Eddie’s hands sneaking under your shirt, his fingers hooking on the sides of your panties.

The feeling of hatred and arousal battling each other off while you recall his stupid smiling face as he removed his fingers from inside you. The dull empty ache as you came down from the euphoria of his touch and words.

That night, you kick yourself for not saying sorry to him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things fan fiction #eddie munson au #barista!eddie munson

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estrellami-1 · 6 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Just a friendly reminder that I missed the last post so I’m posting part 26 and part 27 on the same day, so make sure to go back and read 26 if you haven’t already! ❤️

Part 1 | . . . | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

Eddie doesn’t laugh the way Steve thinks he would. Instead, he frowns slightly. “Should be careful,” he mumbles. “Some dealers don’t care what they give you, long as they get their money.”

Steve hums in response. “Well, I won’t have to worry about that now, right?” He shifts on the roof, laying down to look up at the stars. Feels, more than sees, Eddie do the same. “You’re staying.”

“That I am,” Eddie replies, sighing as he looks at the stars. “Wish we could see ‘em all.”

Steve glances over, and Eddie lifts a hand, waves it lazily at the sky. “The stars. Can’t see but half of ‘em cause of all the lights. But they’re so pretty. So bright. Almost enough to make me want to brave my dad again.”

Steve hums. “He’s still alive?”

“Yeah. ‘S he not? In four years?”

“I dunno exactly. Just… the way you phrased things made it sound like he wasn’t.”

“Well, hell,” Eddie laughs, raising the blunt like it’s a glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Steve snorts and knocks his knuckles against Eddie’s, accepting the joint again after Eddie takes a drag. “So,” Eddie says, rolling over to lay on his front, propping himself up on his elbows. “Tell me the Steve Harrington hierarchy for dates. What comes first?”

Steve chuckles. “Why?” He asks, then answers regardless. “First date is getting to know each other, y’know? If you run out of things to say twenty minutes into it, how the hell’re you supposed to make a relationship work, right? So first date is making sure you’re…” he waves a hand around, looking for the right word. “Like… making sure you match.”

“Compatible?” Eddie suggests, and Steve snaps at him.

“Compatible, that’s it, yeah. Making sure you’re compatible. Second date’s for making sure you’re serious about it, making sure there’s still more to talk about, that you’re not gonna end up staring awkwardly at each other twenty minutes into that date because maybe you’re compatible enough for one date, but not really two, right?”

“So every subsequent date is just making sure you’re compatible.”

“I guess, yeah. Except when you know you are compatible, then you show ‘em who you really are. You put away your nice shirts and start getting out the everyday ones. The dates aren’t as planned out because they don’t need to be, because you already have fun together. Maybe you go to the arcade and you don’t let ‘em win. Or not as easy, at least. I’m still terrible at bowling. I don’t think there’s any hope for me.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.

Eddie raises a brow. “You’re telling me there’s a sport in which you don’t excel? This I have to see.”

Steve laughs and nudges his shoulder. “Man, shuddup.”

“No, but seriously,” Eddie says, and he sounds serious, so Steve drops his smile and listens. “If… if I were to go on a date, on a few dates, with a guy, maybe someone like you, and it’s going well, and we get to that point… I could imagine us doing pretty much exactly this.”

“Getting high on a roof?”

“Spending time together,” Eddie says quietly. “No expectations.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, sure his cheeks are scarlet.

“And,” Eddie says even quieter, practically a whisper, “I maybe wouldn’t mind trying with you.”

“As excited as that makes me,” Steve says, “and trust me, I’m pretty damn excited, I can’t help but think maybe we should wait until we’re past the end of the world.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and brushes his knuckles against Steve’s. They both watch the movement. “Figure I’ve waited this long, what’s a little bit longer, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, pressing his thumb to one of Eddie’s knuckles. Wishes he was pressing his lips to that knuckle instead.

He suddenly sighs. “It’s not just gonna be a week or two, y’know. It’s… when this is over, we can’t stay. Robin and I, we’ve gotta go back to the future.”

“Well, sure, but there’s some version of you that’s gonna stay, right?”

“And if that version of me doesn’t know that any of this happened? ‘M still an asshole, Eddie.”

Eddie grins and rolls over until they’re face-to-face. “I don’t think you’re capable of not being bitchy,” he says, laughing when Steve good-naturedly shoves his face away. “No, but hey,” he says quieter, more serious. “The Harrington Charm might be legendary, but us Munsons got a few tricks up our sleeves too, m’kay? If I have to win you back, I’ll do it. Or could you write yourself a note, maybe? Alli’s staying, she could give it to you. You could write to ask any one of us about it, and we’d tell you.”

Steve hums. “How do you do that?”

Eddie blinks. “Do what?”

“Make me feel like everything’s gonna be alright.”

Eddie blushes, but doesn’t answer, just offers Steve the joint again.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #as I said before we’re SO CLOSE y’all #I can TASTE it #also this is gonna be well over 30 parts. you’ve been warned #fix it fic #time travel #time travel fix it #starambles

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agendabymooner · 8 months

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 !!! 𝐥𝐧𝟒 — 𝐨𝐧𝐞

☼ WHO TF IS LANDO NORRIS?

chapter summary: honey-sue is… honey-sue. she knows who she idolizes (and have a crush on; mason mount), she knows that she’s looking forward to getting the hell out of the university after two years of her masters degree program, and she knows that she doesn’t care about the formula one teams that aren't mercedes amg - she also knows she cares about mick schumacher.

so when her fans (who were coincidentally fans of the sports as well) began to ask her things about her lack of interest, more people (mostly just a group of british youtubers and a certain f1 driver) immediately shifted their attention towards the socially awkward woman as she and her brother got invited to a party in monaco hosted by an f1 driver. newsflash: it wasn’t hosted by either lewis hamilton or george russell.

content warning: use of explicit language, chatfic + tweets, mentions of social anxiety

masterlist

HONEY-SIUUUUU

jideeee 😚😚

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

who dis?

HONEY-SIUUUUU

stfu you know this is your best girl stop capping

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

no? idk who you are

HONEY-SIUUUUU

so if i were to say that i told simon about you using his towel to clean up the mess you made in his room then you wouldn’t be phased about it?

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

naw fam i’m all jokes 😭 don’t tell simon

what’s up, honey??? can’t pay your rent this month?

HONEY-SIUUUUU

oh har har 😒 we all know who’s most likely got more money in her savings

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

and we also know who’s most likely to get someone anything she wants because that someone refuses to use her money on any stupid shit for once

HONEY-SIUUUUU

fuck off i’m being practical. at least i haven’t lost my money to crypto

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

ouch ok. i’m hurt 😒

HONEY-SIUUUUU

anyways. I GOT MY FINAL GRADES BACK 😭😭 I WANNA TELL U FIRST BC I FEEL LIKE YOUD BE MORE EXCITED FOR ME

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

ong??? holy shit, that’s fast. did you make it to the president’s list???

HONEY-SIUUUUU

ok but what do i get when i tell you the result? /jk

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

a pat on the back and congratulations? 🤣

HONEY-SIUUUUU

i’m expecting for something more than that but as long as you’re fulfilling your promises i’m solid

BUT ANYWAYS I GOT THE ONLY 4.0 AND PRESIDENT’S LIST 😭😭😭

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

HOLY SHIIIIT LEZGOOOOO

smart ting you are what the fuckkkkk

happy for you honey!!!!! 😮‍💨

lowk wish i’m there rn to celebrate that with you and the mandem 🙃 stupid boxing trainings

HONEY-SIUUUUU

ugh don’t even worry about it jj 😁😁 i was just v excited to share this to u

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

i’ll make it up to you i promise!!! i’m hella proud of u and ur ability to not even have a breakdown during those days ✊

i gtg tho 🙏 congrats again bro! lmk when ur graduation’s gonna be and what u want for this. i’ll ttyl

HONEY-SIUUUUU

forget about it jj— i was just joking when i said get me sumn

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

it’s a good thing i don’t listen to you whenever you tell me not to get you something huh?

HONEY-SIUUUUU

that’s just your guilt from calling me a sket on harry’s diss track.

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

haha just tell me what u want and i’ll get it sorted out as soon as possible

HAROLDINHO

oi honey

PLONKER

oi harold

HAROLDINHO

i’m at the mailbox rn

u got a package

PLONKER

gee do you ever wonder what the mailboxes are for? 🤔🤔

HAROLDINHO

i was going to bring it upstairs but i guess never mind 😒

a simple “oh really? thanks harry!” would suffice

PLONKER

just get up here and bring it 🤡 you could’ve just brought it up instead of texting me

what’s so special about it that you had to text me before you get up here n e ways??

HAROLDINHO

i dunno. something about it screams fancy.

did you get any bag by chance because this seems a bit too expensive

PLONKER

i don’t buy expensive stuff online???

can you come up so i can open it?

HONEY-SIUUUUU

JJ ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!

LIKE YOURE NOT PULLING MY LEG? AND HARRY’S?!!!

IS THIS REALLY MONACO GP?!

JJ YOU BETTER RESPOND NOW OR IM GONNA BREAK IN YOUR HOUSE AND I KNOW WHERE YOU PUT THE KEYS TO YOUR LAMBO

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

sorry i was on the gym

don’t break into my house

and yes??? you said to get you something right?

HONEY-SIUUUUU

yeah but i was joking 😭😭

this is so cool

but this is expensive. do you take paypal?

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

no tf 🤣

as i said. i’d get you anything you want. but you didn’t tell me what you wanted so i just asked the boys

HONEY-SIUUUUU

you never should’ve listened to harry lmfao

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

lol it was vik and simon who recommended we get you and harry those tickets lololol

i was like “hmm idk what to get her” so they were like get you a trip to monaco or something. they specifically said get you a paddock pass for mercedes

so like go see your michael schumacher or that ken doll you showed me

HONEY-SIUUUUU

jj babes 🤣🙃 mick is in haas

and the fact that we’re taking your jet too 😭😭 you didn’t have to go all out on me

but seriously thank you thank you thank you

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

letting you know as well that will, filly and chunkz are coming along. they got passes from mclaren and all that. it'll be a full plane lol. so it won’t be as overwhelming for you and harry to go alone

HONEY-SIUUUUU

no way?!!!! MY FRIEND FILLYS COMING ?! 😭😭

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

yeah lol

so you have fun in monaco. everything’s been paid for by your personal bank account

HONEY-SIUUUUU

ugh my personal bank account is so fucking amazing

i could give ‘im a lil kiss on the mouth rn 😮‍💨😮‍💨

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

naw don’t do that i don’t think your brother would like that

lmk if there’s anything else you’d like i’ll see what i can do 👍😉

HONEY-SIUUUUU

a little kiss of appreciation on the mouth for you?

SUGAR DADDY JAYJE

no 🤣🤣🤣

RIABISH

hey! i hope this isn’t so weird but you’re honey-sue right? wroetoshaw’s sister?

HONEYSUE

uh hi.

yes it’s me. it does say it on my username and bio. sorry if this is very rude.

RIABISH

no no! all good haha!

i just wanted to confirm! we got the information from will about you. i’ve known the sidemen and your brother but when he mentioned you were coming along to the race in monaco i had to look you up :)

i’m ria btw! i happened to be acquainted with him and filly bc we collab’d with them before. quadrant?

HONEYSUE

i’ve heard of you guys before because will spike a lot about you lots.

RIABISH

all good things i hope 😉

HONEYSUE

haha. yeah.

nice to meet you

RIABISH

likewise :))

we’ve been told of you because apparently you got lucky with ksi getting you free tickets and trip to monaco for the race

HONEYSUE

yeah idk.

i don’t watch formula one as much as i used to years ago. i don’t know much about who’s racing now and whatnot except from whatever’s happening with merc

RIABISH

oh… not at all?

not even mclaren?

HONEYSUE

no. this will be the first time i’ll be watching in a while.

RIABISH

you seem very nice!

listen, will and filly said you’re all flying in at the sunday before the race week begins. lando’s got will, filly and chunkz paddock passes and they’re all hanging around with us quadrant lots for the week.

would you and w2s be interested in coming with us? take you around monaco and get to know each other better since we all live in london and all :))) lando’s been wanting to meet harry for a while so him being in the monaco gp would def work out for all parties. lando will also be hosting a party in his flat in monaco. what do you think??

HONEYSUE

to be honest you’ve lost me at the first message. if you don’t mind— can i ask who lando is? i’m not like any sidemen people— i don’t watch f1 as much as i used to.

i’ve heard of his name before. but that’s because there are people on my twitter saying he’s made references about my videos and songs and whatnot.

i really don’t know who he is

RIABISH

ah right.

that’s alright ;)

lando drives for mclaren and he has the driver number 4. he’s actually one of the members of quadrant. he races and all that! that’s how will and the lots got their passes lol

HONEYSUE

oh okay.

about the invitation.

i think it’s ideal you ask my brother or shoot him a message in insta about it.

he’ll gladly answer

thank you for the offer. i’m sure he’d say yes. i have to go sadly. i’ll talk to you later!

RIABISH

okie. ttyl 👋

MINI HARRY

you absolute knobhead

you call me socially inept all the time yet you’re out here trying to get me to talk to people?!

WILLIAM²

wdym?

oh my god. i am so so sorry

i didn’t think ria would actually be sending and shooting a message to your way

MINI HARRY

you know what

i don’t even care

whatever it’s not like i’d be talking to them anyway.

WILLIAM²

if you’re talking about not being around them during the week nice try.

because harry just said he’d come along with us in monaco before the race. so the chances of you being friends with the quadrant lads are high.

i’m not sure if it’s just me but lando’s more than excited to meet you. harry just ok’d that you two would hang out with us.

MINI HARRY

oh my god. does anybody in my circle ever use their brain?!

#formula one fanfiction #formula one x oc #formula one imagine #formula one smau #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #lando norris x oc #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula one fic #lando norris fanfic #sidemen smau #sidemen au #sidemen imagine #🍯 honey honey! ln4 smau

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toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

dearly beloved (ross x reader fluff)

the final valentine's week fic! remember this shy gf one where they decided to get married in gretna? well. this is that. enjoy <3

taking a tentative sip of your tea, you turn as the door to the cottage opens. your friend hurries in, a burst of cold air following her before she slams it shut. “what a beautiful morning it is,” she sighs, beaming at you as she takes her coat off. “perfect day for a wedding, i’d say.”

you beam over the edge of your mug, cheeks heating up at the thought of what you’re about to do. “yeah? how are the boys?”

“oh, yours is fine. he’s got a brew, he’s fully ready - he looks gorgeous, by the way, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“not at all,” you shake your head, smiling even wider. you wouldn’t expect anything less of ross, especially in a kilt.

“... and mine just cannot stop crying. keeps looking at ross and going ‘you’re getting married! i’m so happy’ and weeping,” she sighs. “like, tell that to your face, matthew, honestly.”

you giggle. “bless him. he’s a sweetie.”

“he is. my sweet little emo boy,” your friend grins. “i think ross is going to cry too when he sees you, though.”

“really?” you tug at your dress, slightly self-conscious.

she nods. “you’re radiant, babe. he’s going to love you even more than usual. and that’s saying something.”

smiling shyly, you turn to look in the mirror. you do look radiant, although you wonder how much that has to do with your gorgeous dress and pretty makeup than it does with the fact you’re marrying the man of your dreams within the hour.

within the hour. shit, you need to get a move on. you turn to your friend, currently shimmying her own dress on. “babe - oh, that’s pretty - when you get a second, would you help me put a bit of my hair up?”

“of course. that reminds me, actually,” she runs to her coat and digs through the pockets, pulling out a little box and placing it in your hand. “i was going to suggest we put that on the bouquet, but we could do something with it in your hair, if you’d like?”

you open the box, smiling at the pattern on the spool of ribbon inside. “macdonald tartan,” same as your husband-to-be’s kilt. “i love it. thank you so much, babe.”

“it was ross’s idea, actually,” she squeezes your shoulder. “needless to say, that set matty off again.”

“i know how he feels,” you smile, tears threatening to spill over your lashline at the tenderness of your man’s gesture. “only thing stopping me from crying is the fear of ruining my makeup, to be honest.”

she giggles. “sensible woman. alright,” she tugs her shoes on, and grabs a hairbrush. “have a seat, and i’ll do my best not to fuck up your hair on your wedding day.”

“my wedding day,” you laugh in slight disbelief, smoothing the skirt of your dress before sitting on one of the chairs by the window. the sun is bright on the scottish countryside, the cold ground glittering in its light; it’s stunning, and your heart soars at how lucky you are to have a setting and day like this for your most special one. “kind of insane that it’s… here. now. and it’s actually happening.”

“a bit, yeah,” your friend gently pulls some of your hair back. “you nervous?”

“nah.”

“really?”

“yeah,” you smile, eyes closing in contentment as your hair is manipulated. “always thought i’d be shitting bricks on the day i got married, if it ever happened, but i’m actually okay. dunno if it’s because i haven’t really had the time to stress about it, or if the gravitas of it all hasn’t just sunk in yet, but, to be honest, i don’t think that’ll actually happen,” you smile to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from fully cheesing. “it’s just me and ross, after all. i love him. he loves me. and we have you and matty with us, two of the people we love most and who love us most in the world. and there’s no aisle for me to trip on while i walk - how could i be nervous?”

your friend laughs; once she finishes tying an elastic in your hair, she leans down to hug you, and a tear drips from her eye onto your bare shoulder. “god, you’ve got me crying now, too,” she giggles. “thank you for letting us be a part of your day. means the world - i love you and ross, so much. can’t wait to celebrate your love today.”

“nobody else i’d rather have with me,” you kiss her teary cheek. “ribbon time?”

“ribbon time. well, take a look at your hair first,” she hands you a mirror. “i tried my best.”

“it looks amazing!” you exclaim, turning to see the face-framing strands she left out of the pretty half-up. “seriously. you’re good.”

“thanks,” she looks up at you bashfully, nail scissors poised over the spool of ribbon. “it’s cos i sit and do matty’s hair when i’m bored.”

you blink at her for a second, then the two of you collapse into a fit of giggles. “i don’t know why i’m laughing, i braid ross’s like every night to get him to fall asleep.”

she giggles even harder, awwing as the laughs fade. “that’s so fucking cute,” she waves the ribbon at you. “and now you can put this in it and be all matchy-matchy.”

“oh, i don’t know if we’re one of those couples,” you wince, sitting still so she can tie the ribbon around the elastic. “but marriage might change us. you never know.”

“well, not long now until you find out, babe,” your friend hugs you again. “have we ticked off the checklist?”

you nod. “vintage dress, old. ribbon, new. handbag is yours - thank you, by the way - so, borrowed, and there’s sapphires in my earrings for the blue component.”

“fab,” she smiles at you really tenderly. “you know, you really are the most beautiful bride i’ve ever seen. he’s a lucky man.”

“oh, no,” you shake your head, taking a sneaky glance at yourself in the mirror while you do and blushing when you see your glamorous reflection. “i think i'm the lucky one.”

she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “shall we go and meet the boys and find out which statement is true?”

you squeeze her hand back. “let's do it.”

after a few minutes of teaching her how to work your film camera and another few of having your picture taken (always a weird experience for you, so used to being on the other side), you leave the cottage and step out into the crisp december air. across the road, outside the old blacksmith's shop you chose as your venue, you can see ross and matty waiting with the man conducting the ceremony; at the sight of your husband-to-be, resplendent in his kilt and black shirt and jacket, you speed up your walking, desperate to be with him.

matty clocks you first, walking over to greet you. his eyes - red-rimmed enough as is - well up when he sees you and your bouquet, and his fiancée winces when he wipes them with the sleeve of his suit. “hi, darling,” he pulls you into a hug. “you look amazing,” he pats your shoulder before kissing your friend. “and you look alright.”

she slaps him on the shoulder, which makes you laugh. “charming.”

“i'm kidding! you look lovely, my girl,” he kisses her head. “now,” he extends an arm out to you - you take it, and take your friend's in the other. “let's go and get you married, mate.”

the three of you walk towards ross and the officiant, both of whom smile as you approach. the latter steps forward to shake your hand and compliment you, and then it's ross's turn; he brings your hand to his lips, then keeps a tight grasp on it, eyes teary. “hi, love. you look… perfect.”

“hi,” you breathe, also on the verge of tears. “you're gorgeous.”

loud sniffling behind you indicates matty is, once again, crying. ross turns towards him and smiles, shaking his head, before turning to the officiant. “shall we?”

“indeed,” the man leads you into the old building - surprisingly warm inside, for it being a stone structure from the 1700s and it being december in the scottish borders - and directs you and ross to stand in front of the anvil, flanked by your friends. once he's made sure you're both alright, he begins. “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

you don't really take in a word the man says, to be honest, bless him - you're too busy looking into ross's eyes, those pools of warmth you've happily drowned in time and time again. but you hear ross when he confirms that you're going with traditional vows for the ceremony, throwing a loving dig at your friends and saying “we'll leave the writing to those muppets behind us” (most likely to get them both to laugh instead of cry), as well as matty's heartfelt “love you, guys” when he presents the rings at the appropriate moment. in all honesty, you're not sure how long you stand there and wait in excited anticipation to officially become ross's wife - time seems to bend in on itself, simultaneously running fast and slow, so it's impossible to be sure of numbers and minutes and seconds. all you're sure of is the feeling of ross's hands in your own and the way he's looking at you adoringly, and that's enough for you. forever.

and then, of course, once you've both said “i do” and slid the complimentary silver rings onto each other's left hands, you're sure of the feeling of his lips on yours; soft, warm, familiar. he pulls back, smiling, and the world opens up to you again - your friends cheering through their tears, matty snapping pictures on your camera, and the officiant clapping and congratulating you both too. but ross is still at the centre of all of it, hugging you, murmuring “my beautiful wife” against your hair.

once the hubbub dies down a little, the officiant gestures to your friend to step forward. “the first act of marriage - the quaich ceremony,” he says, as she places a lovely wooden box on top of the anvil and lifts the lid. you and ross peer in, as the man continues to talk. “husband and wife share a drink, to symbolise the blending of their families, to seal their union, and to represent the sharing of love and happiness throughout their marriage.”

you knew this ceremony was happening, but you didn't know about the ornate silver two-handled cup engraved with your and ross's names and the wedding date, nor the vintage bottle of macallan whisky next to it. wide-eyed, you stare at your friend, who winks. “wedding present from me and matty. surprise!”

ross laughs. “you two are mental. thank you, though.”

“anytime,” she grins. the officiant directs her to pour some whisky into the quaich for you and ross, and she does so enthusiastically. “oh, that’s too much. sorry.”

your husband (!!) scoffs. “no such thing.”

“typical,” she rolls her eyes, while everyone else laughs. “anyway, let me toast.

“strike hands with me, the glasses brim,

the dew is on the heather.

for love is good and life is long,

and two are best together.

bless the union of these two,

eager for marriage, eager for love.

may they begin life together,

live that life together

and come to the end together.”

ross takes a handle of the cup. “ladies first, yeah?”

you grin, taking the other side; together, you carefully lift the quaich to your lips, and let the whisky pass through. the amber liquid is warm as it flows down your throat, and you can’t help exclaiming in satisfaction. “oh, that’s bloody good stuff,” you smile, moving the cup to ross’s lips. “you’ll like this, darling.”

“yeah?” ross takes his requisite drink, and his eyes widen. “oh, absolutely. worth getting married just for that, i reckon.”

the officiant laughs. “and with that… congratulations, mr and mrs macdonald. if you’d like to follow me to this table, we’ll sign the marriage certificate.”

“of course. but first,” ross necks the rest of the whisky and kisses you quickly - matty cackles and cheers in the background, while you blush. “sorry. couldn’t resist.”

you laugh, kissing his hand as you walk. “i love you.”

“i know. you just married me,” ross grins as you roll your eyes, pulling your chair out for you and kissing your head as he sits down beside you. “i love you too. d’you want to sign first, my love?”

“alright,” you sign as directed by the officiant, and pose as directed by matty and the camera, then it’s ross’s turn. “look at that - legally stuck together forever.”

“nowhere else i’d rather be, love.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #valentine75 #shy gf #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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chuuyasheaven · 1 year

Note

I don't know if you're still accepting requests for the event, but if you still do, Serve Kunikida some justice w/ 3, 6, 9, 11 (i dunno if 4 prompts are fine :') )

If you can also make the fem!reader a little bratty and making Kunikida Jealous by flirting with dazai😔✌️

Prompt/Numbers; 3: “What? Cat caught your tongue?” / 6: “Brats don’t get to cum, darling.” / 9: “Beg for it, let me know you deserve it.” / 11: You’re mine and I’m yours, got it?”

Summary; You messed up Kunikida’s ideal schedule for today, so he’ll have to punish you! :D

Warnings; dom!Kunikida, sub!fem!Reader, bratty!Reader, edging, overstimulation, Petnames (slut/brat/darling/etc.), brat taming, mentions of Dazai, porn without plot, oral (fem!recieving), fingering, squirting, etc.

Notes (from me); I LIVE FOR THIS IDEA??? HELLO?? But you’re so right, I’m gonna serve Kunikida some justice! THE WAY THE SUMMARY IS ALWAYS SO INNOCENT AND SHIT BUT THE REST??? SKDVDJDB

You messed up badly, didn’t you?

You probably did, or else-

You wouldn’t be here in this position.

What Position you may ask? Well..

“Not only did you mess up my daily schedule, you go flirt with my most annoying coworker too?”, Kunikida scolded you, while you sat in bed, totally listening.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big fuss about your stupid ideal, Kuni. Also, i didn’t ‘flirt’ with Dazai, i just cleaned his face.”, you stated for yourself.

For a little context- (Song lyric intended lol)

Kunikida has been very into his ideals lately, barely giving you attention.

This was the reason you decided to force the attention out of him. So you decided to slightly rile him up for him to..punish you.

But since he ignored you messing up his schedule a bit, you improvised.

When Dazai had something little on the corner of his mouth, you got close to his face to rub your thumb over it.

Kunikida had enough of your behavior.

I mean, messing up his schedule is one thing, but flirting with Dazai was a whole ‘nother thing.

This is how you got here- but he was just scolding you, for now.

“I thought you were better than this, [Name].”, “Yeah, yeah. Me too. But we can’t have everything, can we? Can we just hurry this up? If you’re not gonna-”, Kunikida suddenly got in front of you, grabbing your chin to face him.

“Not gonna what, dear? What do you expect me to do?”, you looked into his eyes, when did he suddenly get so attractive?

“What? Cat caught your tongue? I asked you something, answer the question.”, it was like all the comebacks you had in store were robbed by his stare.

“Uhm, w-well-”, you stuttered, making Kunikida amused.

You felt the bed shifting. When you realized Kunikida got onto bed, his knee positioned between your thighs.

“You didn’t think I’ll let you go without a punishment, did you?”, He smirked at your dumbfounded face.

You should’ve actually think this through.

“You must me excited, hm? Because i feel you soak up my knee, darling.”

Kunikida kissed you, you kissed back.

Both of you let yourselves lay down on the bed, Kunikida was topping.

Separating from the kiss, Kunikida got off again, going down to face your damped panties.

“We barely started and you're already wet? Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

“P-please do..oh my..-”, he took your panties and threw them off somewhere on the floor, blowing a little breeze onto your cunt.

Kunikida started eating you out, making you moan with delight. His tongue hit all the right places, him also adding pressure to your bud, heaven.

When you felt your orgasm near, your thighs started shaking slightly.

Just when your high was approaching, he cut off all your pleasure, cutting off your orgasm.

“Brats don’t get to cum, darling. Especially by ruining my schedule.”, Kunikida scolded you once again.

“B-but- please, Kuni, i-i didn’t mean to!-”, he wasn’t buying that.

“No buts, princess. You don’t get to cum. Unless you, beg for it, let me know you deserve it, hm?”, no. You didn’t want to! But was he actually gonna edge you until you beg?

You let out a sharp moan when you felt his fingers enter.

“Hm? I’m waiting, slut.”, the sudden name change was getting you off too, besides of his skilled fingers.

“K-kuni, please..I’m sorry! I-i didn’t mean to get you m-mad..i just wanted your a-attention! Please..p-please fuck me..!”, Kunikida picked up on your pleas, pumping them even faster and rougher.

It was making you loose your mind, maybe him always writing in his ideal wasn’t too bad.

“You wanted attention? Why didn’t you just ask? Probably because you like being treated like a whore, yes?”, he was SO right.

You were getting closer again, but guess what?

Kunikida cut you off again.

“If you wanna cum, then it’ll be when you’re clenching around my cock, understood? Oh, besides, also for flirting with Dazai, i won’t forgive it so fast.”, Kunikida claimed as he stood up, taking off his undergarments.

Seeing his boner, you got wetter.

Kunikida just entered and didn’t even let you adjust.

This made you moan louder than ever. Which made Kunikida more amused.

“You're mine and I'm only yours, got it? I don't wanna see you flirting with that bastard again.”

How was he saying that so casually?

Anyway, you were getting close again, the knot inside your stomach ready to snap any second.

When it did, you did not just cum, you squirted.

Your squirted cum covering his cock.

Kunikida started to thrust more faster and rougher, yearning for his own.

Eventually, he did and he pulled out.

Both of you heavily breathing, when Kunikida gets down between your thighs.

“Kuni, w-what are you doing..?”

“Well i have to clean you up, remember? This is one of my best way to do it, dear.”

Hope you enjoyed it!

#kunikida smut #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida doppo #i dont fucking know #kunikida x reader #kunikida x you #bsd smut #bsd kunikida #slay

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Note

Ange I was thinking about your latest Ettore drabble, maybe, canon Ettore would’ve turned out differently if he had met the right person. If he had met someone who is as depraved, desperate for some escape, maybe just as unknowingly craving that genuine human touch, he wouldn’t have hurt someone else, he would’ve had something warm to hold onto in that hellhole he lived.

Hopefully I don’t sound like I’m defending canon Ettore’s action, he is a scumbag. But maybe had two scumbags who are just as desperate to comfort each other through canal pleasure been left alone, they might have had something beautiful, something genuine blooming between them.

Im not joking when I said you’re singlehandedly making Ettore one of my favorite characters, Ewan played a scumbag, and a lot of Ettore fics hammered his predator side through and through, I like your approach to the character in fanon writing exploring the other possibility if he met someone and started connecting with them in the end. I would love to read the “I love you” drabble you teased if you have time and ofc feel like writing it one day.

Sorry this has taken me so long!

Warnings: Implied smut, mild violence, heavy angst, character death, mentions of grief, trauma. Word count: ~2k

Main series masterlist

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Ettore stares after Boyse’s retreating form, a feeling of unease settling into his gut. It’s not a feeling he is accustomed to and he hates it. This would end badly. The sudden spike in adrenaline directly opposes the post-sex haze he was expecting to bask in for a moment, and his jaw clenches in anger, simmering hot and unforgiving beneath his skin.

He considers going after Boyse, silencing her, making sure she doesn’t ruin the only good thing he has to look forward to on this miserable ship. But then he looks down at her, the woman he is currently buried inside of, her eyes large and reflecting the same anxiety he currently feels. His fury slowly dissipates as he is brought back into the moment; her warmth enveloping him, how soft she feels against his body.

“Shit.” She breathes out shakily, pushing him away and straightening up.

A hollowness expands within Ettore’s chest at the sudden loss of contact as he slips out of her. There is something about it that feels so final, it has him longing to press her back up against the wall and keep her there forever.

Slowly, he adjusts his clothing as she does the same to hers. His eyes move between her and the door, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” She murmurs, raking her hands through her hair and starting to pace. “That was so stupid of us.”

“You think she’ll say anything?” He asks, standing perfectly still in spite of the nervousness that rolls in his gut.

“I dunno.” She says with a shrug, chewing absentmindedly at her thumbnail. “Hard to tell.”

“We could stop her…”

She ceases her pacing and looks him in the eye, her tone serious. “You’ll do nothing, not after what you did to Monte. I’ll talk to Boyse. Just go back to work, okay?”

He nods. She has a point, but he hates the lack of control he has over the situation.

As she turns to leave the laundry room, he is struck once more by the overwhelming sensation of finality. He reaches desperately for her, pulling her to him and kissing her fiercely, as though he is trying to breathe the very air from her lungs. He feels her relax into it, moving her lips against his for a few seconds and his grip on her tightens.

She pulls away eventually, breathless and eyebrows raised in surprise. “You trying to get us caught again?”

“No, I just…” The words die in his throat, unable to articulate the fact that he wants nothing more than to live in this moment forever, and he shakes his head. “...doesn’t matter.”

She slips out of his grasp and walks off. He doesn’t turn away until she rounds the corner and is out of sight

He spends the rest of the day on edge. His ears prick up at every sound, his shoulders never fully pulling away from his neck. The ship doesn’t make for the most relaxing environment in the first place, but he’s feeling especially tense. The impending sense that something is going to happen refuses to leave him, but he’s unsure of what to expect.

Perhaps Monte will seek him out, intent on getting him back for his attack earlier? Maybe Dibs will formulate some sort of punishment, having been informed that he’s involved sexually with another member of the crew when it’s strictly forbidden?

When sleep mode is activated later that evening, he anticipates relief washing over him as there is seemingly no fallout to the events earlier that day, instead his mind continues to race.

He passes her in the hallway on the way back to his cell, and raises his eyebrows at her in question. She shakes her head and he sighs in frustration, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her around a corner.

“You’ve not sorted it?” He asks in a whisper.

She sighs. “I couldn’t. Haven’t been able to find Boyse most of the day and whenever I see her she’s not on her own. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” He tuts, pulling back from her.

“I think it’s best if you don’t come to my bunk tonight.” She tells him. “Can’t risk it.”

He knows it’s for the best, that what she’s saying makes total sense and yet he can’t help the crushing disappointment that settles heavy and unyielding in his chest. When his mind won’t quiet there is nothing that soothes him more than to sink inside of her, and feel the way she shudders and falls apart against him. He needs that now more than ever, yet the riskiness of their current predicament will not allow it.

He quirks his lip, looking away from her and stalks back towards his cell.

Sleep does not come for Ettore that night; he lays flat on his back, eyes fixed on the door to the cell, waiting. For what, he is unsure, but his gut feeling tells him something is wrong and he is powerless to stop it. He is always the hunter, never the hunted, and yet the tables have turned and there is nothing he can do about it. His grip on the blankets beside him turns his knuckles white as he lays there, trapped and frustrated.

He has no idea how long he lays there for, just watching, but at some point the lights on board brighten, signaling the start of another day. He climbs from the bed, raising his arms above his head to lean on the doorframe as he peers out.

The first few members of the crew begin to exit their cells, sullen faced as they head towards the showers. Ettore looks at them impassively as they pass, not really seeing them. His gaze focuses, zeroing in when he sees a familiar head of long, dark hair heading in the opposite direction; Dibs. He suspects where she is headed, and waits a few moments before following.

Lurking around the corner, his suspicions are confirmed as she goes into her cell. He wishes he could hear what they are saying, it’s not common for Dibs to visit any of the crew in their sleeping quarters and seeing this makes his chest feel tight. There’s no way this isn’t related to them being caught together.

He flattens against the wall, as he sees Dibs leave, striding purposefully back towards her lab. He can’t see the expression on her face, but there’s something about the way she carries herself that leaves him longing to punch her. He flexes his fingers to suppress the urge and then heads into the cell that she’s just exited.

She’s pulling on her top when he enters and is clearly startled by the sight of him as her head appears through the neckhole.

“Christ! When did you appear there?” She asks, smoothing the material of the scrubs over her midriff.

He ignores the questioning, jutting his jin towards the doorway. “What was all that about?”

She sighs, her gaze downcast. “Dibs says I missed my last check up. Wants to see me this morning.”

Bile rises in his throat, his eyes narrow. “You know that’s bullshit, right? Boyse has dropped us in it.”

She nods, looking up at him in resignation. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. But what choice do I have? Gotta take my punishment.”

“Don’t go!” He tells her angrily, his heart feeling as though it will thunder straight out of his chest. “You don’t have to go!”

“The longer I leave it, the worse it’ll be.” She shrugs. “I’ve lashed out at her before and all she did was up my sedatives. Can’t imagine this will be any worse.”

“But what if it is?!” He shouts, feeling his face grow hot as he surges forward to grab her by the upper arms. “What if she hurts you?”

“Then she hurts me.” She fires back, scowling. “You’ve hurt me before, it heals.”

He lets her go, stepping back, but never shifting his focus from her face. “I’m not letting you do this.”

She scoffs. “She’ll drug me up, I’ll come back, I’ll sleep it off. Why are you being so fucking weird about this?”

He speaks before he has time to think, the words leaving him in a burst of exasperation. “Because I love you!”

Freezing when he realises what he’s said, the air hangs heavy between them as she stares at him in shock. Why isn’t she saying anything?!

His fists clench as he feels rejection begin to pierce at him, eager to lash out, until her face softens and she speaks, barely a whisper.

“What did you just say?”

He exhales, not realising he’d been holding his breath and looks away from her. “I just…I don’t want anything to happen to you, alright?”

She cups his face, urging him downward so that she can rest her forehead against his. “I know. I know. I’ll be okay, promise.”

He relaxes in her embrace, eager to keep her with him. He leans in, pressing his lips to hers, disappointed when she pulls back with a playful smile.

“Let me owe you that one.” She says softly. “My guarantee to you that I’ll come back.”

He watches silently as she walks away, in the direction of the lab, dread gnawing at his insides.

Ettore is slamming closed the lid of a washer when Tchemy enters the laundry room. “We’ve been summoned.” He calls out to him.

“What d’you mean?” He asks, turning to face him.

“Dibs needs something put out of the airlock.” Tchemy says with a casual shrug. “It’s me and Mink on maintenance today, but she asked for you specifically. Must be heavy if Mink can’t help me.”

Ettore feels as though all the air has left room, his heart lurches painfully in his chest. He pushes past Tchemy, ignoring the other man’s joking pleas for him to slow down as he storms quickly towards the airlock.

Time draws to a standstill, the blood rushing in his ears when he sees the gurney and the sheet covering the figure that lays upon it. His knees feel like they’ll buckle beneath him, everything sounds far away.

“This is a body…” Tchemy says apprehensively.

Dibs nods solemnly, her expression grim as her mouth presses into a tight line. “She bled out during a routine procedure. Tragic, but unavoidable, these things happen. We have to dispose of her”

Ettore barely comprehends the exchange, his eyes drift downwards to the hand that’s hanging from beneath the sheet. Her hand. The same hand that had cupped his face earlier that day as she’d told him she owed him a kiss. A kiss he’d never get to have, because she’d been taken from him. She was his and they’d taken her away.

His hands tremble, his eyes sting painfully and he swallows thickly, he won’t give Dibs the satisfaction of a reaction. She’d taken enough from him already. He’d been right, why hadn’t he done more to stop her? He’d let her go and now she was being discarded like rubbish.

He bristles with anger as Tchemy claps him on the shoulder, pulling him out of his painful reverie. “Need your help, man.” He says.

Dibs had done this on purpose, she’d wanted him to know, to see, to punish him by having him help dispose of her. His heart shatters when he lifts her, how cold and void of her usual softness she is against him is too much to bear. His mood shifts, becoming darker, angrier, more predatory as they seal the airlock back up. His resolve hardens. Something inside of him has died alongside of her, and he wants to make them pay for what they’ve stolen from him. They’ll all feel every bit of the pain he’s enduring, he’ll make sure of it. And he’ll start with the person who ratted them out in the first place; Boyse.

Post script author's note: I have set the ending of this up for events that lead directly into canon, and we all know how that ends, so this is the end of the road for our star crossed lovers. I am currently accepting requests for Ettore, but no further requests which relate to this series. This instalment is its final part.

#ettore #ettore x reader #high life #ettore smut #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Friendly Sex - Chapter 9 - The Calm

We're back baby! Chapter 10 will definitely be up at some point this week but I'm not going to put a time limit on it in case I get bogged down with life etc. Thank you once again to everyone who has liked, reblogged, commented, and messaged you are all actual 'sweethearts'.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), explicit language, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, over use of pet names, sex without a condom (reader is on the pill), creampie.

_______________________________________________

Your dad picks you up from Indianapolis Airport just after 6am the following morning, holding you tightly for a good 20 minutes before you both could pull yourselves together, and get back on the road.

“I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to the twins.” You mumble tearfully, forehead resting against the passenger window.

“That’s not your fault sprout. That goddamn Philip, if I'd have been there I'd have laid his ass out.” Your dad seethes, and you can't help but smile, your dad is a good ten years older than Philip, slightly overweight with a heart condition, but you’d still bet money on him. “First thing I’m going to do when we get home is call your mother and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Dad, it’s not worth it.” You say tiredly. “She’s made her choice, and it’s not me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you a better person to be your mom, kiddo.” He sighs sadly, patting you on the cheek.

You drift off for a while, the gentle rocking of the car soothing along with the quiet radio, it's not until you're 20 minutes outside of town that you wake up properly, stretching as best you can in the cramped car. Your dad is whistling quietly along to John Denver, as you pass the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park, you wonder what Eddie is up to, thinking about how he talked you down last night.

You told him you missed him, it was a brutally honest moment, never expecting him to return the sentiment. You supposed it was natural to miss someone when you had spent just over a month with them, but you knew it ran deeper than that, you could have called anyone last night but you needed Eddie.

You finally pull onto the drive, the weight of yesterday feeling stronger again, you’re exhausted from all the tears, the pain of your mother’s rejection, the sleepless night in the airport.

Your dad takes your bag out of the trunk, unlocking the door, you toe off your sneakers and notice a fishing rod and tackle box to the side, suddenly remembering your Dad’s plans for the long weekend; fishing at Patoka Lake with his buddies.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry, you were supposed to be on your fishing trip!" You cry feeling awful.

"Hey, don't worry about it sprout, there'll be plenty of other trips over the summer." He reasons, dumping your bag down. "Besides, you're more important right now."

"But you've been looking forward to it for months. Why don’t you call Dale? You can still make it up there. I’ll be ok on my own.” You say earnestly,

“I dunno kiddo.” He says scratching his head. “You being on your own after last night doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well how about I call Robin? See if she wants to stay over?” Knowing damn well Robin wouldn’t be the person you were going to actually call. You could see the turmoil in your Dad’s eyes, you sigh hugging him round the middle.

“Dad please go fishing, I just need a girl’s night, ice cream, crying, watching Grease.” That did it, and you couldn’t help but smile as he tensed in your hold, your dad hated Grease.

“You sure sprout?” He asks, hands practically itching for the fishing pole.

“Positive.”

____________________________________________________

You do feel a small twinge of guilt at your white lie as you wave your dad off, but it quickly evaporates into a strange sense of excitement and anticipation at the idea of having Eddie in your house. You rush to the phone in the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as you listen to the rings, cord twirled tight about your hand.

“Hello?” A gruff much older voice than Eddie’s answers, this must be the illusive Wayne, or rather the Wayne you’ve been tactically avoiding.

“Oh - uh - hi Mr Munson, my name is Y/n, I’m a - friend of Eddie’s, is he around?” You don’t know why you’re stammering so much, although it might be because the inappropriate part of your brain is screaming ‘Hi Mr Munson, I’m booty calling your nephew, also we’ve banged on your couch - sorry.’

“You wanna speak to Eddie and you’re a girl?” He asks, sounding surprised and it throws you for a loop.

“Um - last time I checked, yes Sir.” You mumble, laughing awkwardly.

“You’re a girl and you’re calling for Eddie?” He clarifies again. “Alright - he’s outside, let me get him.”

The line goes silent for a moment but then you can hear Wayne call something out and Eddie’s voice getting closer.

“- jeez Wayne, why you gotta be so - Sweetheart?” He’s out of breath.

“Hi.” You say simply.

“You ok? You home? Are you safe?” He asks rapidly and you wonder if he’s been worrying about you all night, it made your heart do a funny flip.

“I’m fine Ed’s, I crashed at the airport and caught a flight out just before 4am, I got home about an hour ago.” You reassure him, hearing him exhale heavily.

“You had me so scared last night.” He mutters.

“Yeah, it was intense.” You agree, wiping your clammy palms on your jeans, now feeling nervous. “So, uh I was wondering and you can say no, but my dad has gone fishing for the weekend, did you maybe wanna come over and -”

“- yes.” Eddie jumps in before you can finish. “Uh, sorry, yeah I’d love to come over, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah it’s cool.” You say smiling, swinging your legs slightly against the counter.

“What time do you want me?” He asks. A loaded question.

Whilst your urge to see Eddie is strong you look like shit, desperately needing to sleep, shower and get groceries.

“Dinnertime? Does six work?”

“It works, see you then princess.”

___________________________________________________

You had briefly called Robin in between your nap and going to the store, filling her in on the events in Chicago, and that Eddie was coming round for the evening. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who went through some shit last night.

“-come again?” You ask, ears ringing slightly.

“Steve and Nancy had a big fight yesterday.” She sighs, and you can hear her pacing in the background.

“What about?” You ask, biting at your thumb.

“He didn’t really say, well more he wasn’t in a fit state to say, he was hammered by

the time I got to him. But if I deciphered his slurs correctly, Nancy had booked plane tickets to go and see Jonathon next weekend without telling Steve.”

“Shit.” You breathe, sitting down on your bed. “I mean maybe she just forgot to tell him?” You offer weakly.

“Doubtful. Either way it sounds like they both said some pretty hurtful things to each other, I think they might be on a break.” She says seriously.

You felt dizzy, you had left Hawkins for all of 24 hours, everything was bright and breezy, you came back and Steve and Nancy are on a break?

“So, Eddie was a lifeline yesterday huh?” She asks, snapping you back to the present.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, mind reeling. “He was really sweet.”

“What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Uh, spaghetti.” You mumble, shaking your head slightly to clear Steve’s image from your head.

“- and?” She presses.

“And spaghetti, Rob.” You laugh wryly.

“Well, whatever you crazy kids are calling it, be safe!” Robin teases, and you flush.

“Ok, bye, Robin, hanging up now!”

“No - wait! Call me tomor-” You put the phone down, running your hand across your face, Steve could be single. Could be, but his track record said otherwise, and his voice from last month was clear as a bell ‘-me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.’

“It’s a blip.” You mutter aloud. “Not worth thinking about.”

_______________________________________________________

You should have ordered pizza, good god why didn’t you just order pizza?! You had to go to three different grocery stores in order to get everything you needed for Bolognese, which took up an extra hour of your time. The tried and trusted recipe of your Nana’s inexplicably failing you after 9 years of flawless service, maybe she didn’t approve of your dinner guest. The pasta had clumped together in the water, leaving a stodgy mass, the sauce was weirdly acidic and salty having caught on the hob, and you’d slopped red wine down your white t-shirt when the cork shot out. At this rate the garlic bread would be the only thing edible.

Ding-dong. The doorbell sounded more akin to a death knell.

You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror as you run for the door and groan, your hair frizzy from the cooking steam, face flushed, the large wine stain looking like you’d thrown up blood.

So why, when you open the door, is Eddie looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen?

“Hi.” He grins, leaning against the porch, he’s trying to affect a pose of nonchalance but you notice his left leg is bouncing slightly.

“Hi.” You say breathlessly, attempting to smooth down your hair. “Where’s your van?” You ask, peering past him to the empty driveway.

“Oh, I parked it up at Gareth’s, didn’t want your neighbours to give you a hard time, tell your dad or something.” He answers sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to, Mrs Roberts is blind as a bat.” You laugh, thumbing to the house on your right. “You wanna come in?” You ask, awkwardly jumping to one side, realizing you’re barring the doorway.

“Thanks.”

You watch him take in the lower part of the house from the hall, consciously slipping his battered Reeboks off onto the doormat, hanging his jacket up carefully on the coat hook.

“Nice place.” He says, smiling widely as he looks at a picture of you on the wall, taken when you were in kindergarten, bright yellow dress and bows in your pigtails to match. “Very cute.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, shoving him lightly, he catches your arm and brings you in for a bone breaking hug. You wrap your arms about him instinctively, his head pressing to the top of yours, rocking you slightly.

A lot of unsaid things pass through, it's a hug of comfort about what happened with your mom, it’s a hug of missing each other, it’s a hug that’s needed by both parties and you find yourself burrowing a little closer. He pulls back after a minute or so to look at you properly.

“You good?” He asks gently, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks.

“'M good.” You mumble, smiling softly. He leans down to kiss you when he stops just shy of your lips, to sniff the air.

“Do I smell burning?”

“SHIT!” You shout, pelting towards the kitchen, smoke billowing from the oven. You grab some mitts, and extract a heavily cremated loaf of garlic bread, coughing as you heave it into the sink.

“Aw honey, you baked.” Eddie croons, wrapping his arms about your waist from behind, you can feel his chest vibrating with barely held in chuckles.

“It’s a disaster.” You whine, leaning back into his embrace.

“What was it supposed to be?” He asks gingerly, lifting a saucepan lid to examine the spaghetti log.

“Spaghetti Bolognese.” You sigh.

“Well, points for effort princess.” He laughs openly, spinning you in his arms. “Do you have ramen noodles?”

You grab two packets of ramen from the pantry as Eddie pulls on an apron with a flourish tasting the sauce, wincing slightly. “You got any sugar?” He asks.

You dutifully pass him the sugar bag, watching as he eyeballs a small amount of sugar into the pan.

“My old man is a shitty person but he always knew how to make a mean pasta sauce.” He notices your curious expression, holding the spoon out to you, the sugar has managed to balance out the acidity and salt.

“Salvageable.” You nod impressed.

Eddie dumps the dead spaghetti into the sink on top of the still smouldering bread, putting fresh water into the pan along with the ramen noodles as you pour the rest of the wine, handing him a glass.

“It’s supposed to have tasting notes of cherries, chocolate and cinnamon.” You read off the bottle label, sniffing yours.

“Tastes -” He takes a healthy gulp “-like wine, so - fucking gross.”

You laugh, passing him the colander for the noodles, and grabbing some pasta bowls and cutlery.

It’s a sickeningly domesticated scene, the two of you sat at the breakfast bar, knee to knee, slurping away at the strange dish.

“Well sweetheart, we’ve managed to insult two great nations at the same time, cheers to Japan and Italy.” He grins lifting his glass of wine in a toast.

“Or we’ve created some kind of new fusion that will take the world by storm and we’ll be rich.” You counter argue.

“Oh yeah, this is some Michelin Man shit right here.” He says, taking another huge forkful.

“Michelin star.” You correct, laughing, feeling lighter than you have in hours.

You wash up the dishes together, Eddie constantly finding excuses to touch you, until you flick dishwater at him.

“Ah, now princess, play nice.” He warns, wiping his sudsy face with a smirk, pinching your side. You cup a large handful of bubbles, advancing on him menacingly.

“You wouldn’t.” He challenges, eyes narrowing.

“Try me Munson.” You dare.

“Truce?” He asks carefully, hands raised in peace.

You nod, letting him get close again before shoving your wet hand up his back.

“Oh you’ve done it now.” He laughs loudly, grabbing the dish cloth aiming a whip towards your ass.

“Eddie no!” You screech, rounding the breakfast bar, chucking an orange at his head.

“It’s war Y/n!” He yells, chasing you, you race out of the kitchen pounding up the stairs to your room, giggling wildly, you’re just in the door when he seizes you about the waist, lifting you off the floor.

“Ed’s put me down!” You gasp, laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

He pretends to suplex you into the bed, but he’s gentle as he lowers you, protecting your head from the bounce hovering above you.

“Do you submit?” He asks breathlessly, hair mussed up, t-shirt slightly wet.

“Never.” You say defiantly, the effect somewhat lost as you trace your hands up his arms.

He presses his lips to yours, the last of your breath leaving you in a pleased gasp as he deepens the kiss, hands stroking idly up your slides and across your stomach.

“Missed you sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, your heart pounding like you’ve run up the stairs again.

“Missed you too.” You mumble quietly, fingers scratching gently through his hair. “Wasn’t gone for that long though.” You remind him.

“Doesn’t matter, you weren’t close by, I didn’t like it.” He says, brown eyes staring intensely into yours, your mouth feels dry, filled with a jumble of words that don’t quite make it out. You settle for bringing him in for another kiss. Time seems to stand still, as you both lay there, absorbed in each other’s mouths, hands wandering, squeezing, stroking, until he suddenly stops a confused expression on his face.

“Ed’s?” You whisper, chest heaving.

“Who - do we have here?” He asks with a smirk, you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he extracts your childhood teddy bear from under your back, having forgotten to put him in the closet earlier. “This is a very respectable looking teddy bear princess, does he have a name?” He teases, making the bear wave.

You glare at him, making a snatch for it.

“His name is Bearington Bear the Third and he’s very old, so gimmie.” You pout, blushing.

“Bearington Bear the Third?” Eddie repeats with unbridled joy. “That is one hell of a name.” He laughs but relents in passing you the bear which you quickly kiss before unceremoniously throwing it across the room.

“That is no way to treat an elderly person.” Eddie gasps scandalized, you’re about to punch him when your phone rings making you jump, you roll away quickly grabbing the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey kiddo, just thought I’d check in.” Your dad says, sounding very cheerful.

“Hey Dad, yeah everything’s all good here.” You say, trying to ignore Eddie who has decided to place kiss after kiss to the side of your neck. “Uh- how’s the fish?” You ask, elbowing him away but it just spurs him on, nipping at the soft skin.

“They’re biting pretty good, got a couple cooking up now. Gordon and Dale say hello.” You snag your lip on your teeth, as Eddie sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, attempting to lean away from his touch. “Sprout, you still there?”

“Yeah I'm here dad, just uh - got distracted by the film.” You mumble shakily, a kiss pressed dangerously close to your mouth.

“That Travolta boy shaking his ass about again?” He asks with a laugh.

“Um - s-something like that.” You stammer, Eddie’s fingers splayed across your naval, threatening to move lower beneath the band of your leggings.

“Alright kiddo, I'll let you get back to it. Have a good night with Robin, love you.”

“Love you too Dad.” You slam the phone down as Eddie slips his fingers into your panties, lightly circling your clit.

“That was fucking mean Eddie.” You gasp, back arching into his chest.

“Sorry baby, I just couldn’t help myself.” He groans, sinking a finger into your tight heat.

“Fuck.” You whimper, bringing an arm back to curl around his neck.

“This fucking pussy, jesus.” He growls next to your ear, nipping at your lobe, another finger pressing past the wetness gathered between your thighs.

He pulls you backwards so he’s resting against the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling you as he pumps in and out, turning his head to kiss you, tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm. It’s maddening, his free hand cupping your breast, thumbing over the nipple, his hardness rutting against your spine.

“Ed’s.” You whine, hips rolling to meet his movements.

“Let me get you there baby.” He huffs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He slips from your cunt to rub rapidly at your swollen clit, the warmth moves slowly from your belly, washing across you in a gentle wave. You mewl into his mouth, Eddie swallowing every sound with his own.

He shifts out from under you, letting you fall back against the pillows, hands pulling at your leggings and panties, hooking your legs over his shoulders, tongue flicking straight at your sensitive bud. It’s like he’s making out with your pussy, wet, sinful, decadent.

“Oh - god.” You stutter, hands gripping at hair.

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asks needlessly, fingers re-entering your cunt, crooking them to rub against the spongy spot that has you immediately cresting again, hips canting against his mouth.

“Eddie, fuck me please.” You beg.

“Your wish is my command.” He grins, stripping in record time, you pull your wine ruined top off, both of you bare and wanting. Eddie’s face falls suddenly.

“Shit! I forgot to bring condoms.” The poor boy looks devastated and you can’t help but giggle.

“Ed’s c’mere.” You beckon, he does as he’s told, crawling back between your plush thighs. “I’m on the pill, I have been for years.” You soothe, hands running over his back.

“You - you are?” He stammers, ears bright red and burning. “And you don’t mind me -” He trails off looking at you pointedly. “ - I mean I'm clean, I've had the checks.”

“I’m clean too, and no I don’t mind.” You grin bashfully, he looks like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh holy shit this is hot.” He breathes, cock braced in his hand, sliding through your slick, you nod vigorously, the skin to skin feeling electrified.

He pushes in and you both gasp, you can feel every vein, bump and ridge as he drags along your walls.

“Fuck baby, you’re so warm.” He moans, head dropping into your neck, kissing at your pulse point.

“Eddie.” Is all you can say like a record stuck on repeat, each thrust and snap intensified, the wet slapping of your bodies meeting in a delicious slide.

“Wanna ride you.” You murmur, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Jesus H Christ you’re gonna kill me.” He groans, rolling you both so you’re on top, you brace your hands on his chest, helping you to bounce, Eddie holds your hips so tightly you can feel bruises blooming and it sends you to dizzying heights.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He chants, grabbing the back of your hair, smashing your lips together, his hips pounding up into you. You rub at your clit, whimpering as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” He asks moving faster, and you can only nod, writhing on top as the band snaps.

“Oh god, I can feel you.” He whines, head pressed back as he ruts up harder. “Where - where can I cum princess?” He asks desperately, looking like he’s barely clinging onto sanity.

“Inside. Eddie, please cum inside me.” You cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

Eddie makes a choking noise, the veins in his neck strained tight, strong hands working your slick cunt over him continuously as he pumps into you. It sends you over for a fourth and final time, the warmth of him spilling out and around, both of you clinging to each other like life preservers.

“Sweetheart, I -” You wait for the rest of the sentence, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears but he just gathers you impossibly tighter, pressing a hard burning kiss to your swollen lips. “ - I have a great time with you.” He breathes fiercely.

“I have a great time with you too, Eds.” You whisper, kissing him back.

Taglist:

@avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2@eddieslildarling@bakugouswh0r3@sidthedollface2@81rain@blueberrylemontea-fanfic@winchester-angel@bimbobaggins69@tuskjohnny@fckyeahlames@thecomfortgoth@alanamarie@miarosso@ghosttownwherenoonegoes@somespicystuff@eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can @mynameismothra @kingaa101

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #friendly sex fic

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arent-i-the-fairest · 2 years

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

it’s hard to catch some time with your s/o when you two go to different schools. desperate to see each other, you secretly meet up late at night.

“i know you don’t like that i’m doing this, but keep this a secret and you’ll have premium tuna cans for days,” you promised to grim as you tied a scarf around your neck. it was a particularly cold night. not that it was a big deal for you— you’d go through any weather to see your boyfriend.

“you better keep that promise..” grim was practically drooling all over himself as he thought about the stacks of tuna he would be getting. “premium tuna.. i’ll be dreamin’ about it..” he muttered as he curled up on top of his blanket.

right before you left, you quickly gave grim a couple scratches behind the ears as he dozed off.

“goodnight, grim. i’ll be back by midnight.”

with that, you were out the dorm and headed into the woods.

neige leblanche

“this is all so scandalous..” neige whispered as he nestled closer to you. “it’s not at all what a prince should be doing, yet it feels so—”

“—fun.” you interjected, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“hehe, very fun! but what i was meaning to say was that it feels so right. not to mention romantic,” he blushes. “strangely, it feels very fairy tale-like to me. perhaps it’s because i’m watching the stars with the love of my life.”

as neige looked up at the stars, it might’ve just been his imagination, but he couldn’t help but feel they were shining a bit brighter than usual.

“neige, i think i see a constellation!”

“ooh! where, where?”

truthfully, neige was a bit apprehensive about agreeing to a late night meet up— he’s never done such a thing before! and what would happen if you two got caught?

needless to say he was quite anxious that first time you two met up in the forest. but as the date went on, his mind became completely changed. it just felt so… intimate, having time alone together, talking under the night sky. it’s something he’s eager about now. he pays no mind to fact that this is something frowned upon by his classmates, he’ll do anything to see you.

checking the time on your phone, your eyes widened seeing that it was already a bit past midnight. “time for us to head back!”

neige’s disappointment was poorly veiled.

“already? it felt more like 2 minutes than 2 hours. maybe we could stay for just a couple minutes more?” he suggests right before yawning. neige is much more of an early bird than a night owl— he can’t remember the last time he was up this late.

“i wanna stay longer too, but we better not. looks like you’re already pretty tired. i don’t wanna have you nodding off in class because of me.” you laughed softly, helping him stand up.

“you’re right..” he admits with a pout. he rubs his tired eyes, watching you turn away.

“well, i’ll see you soon!” you waved before preparing to head back up the hill. before you even walked 5 steps, neige called after you.

“wait—!” neige briefly clammed up. he didn’t mean to call after you, it’s like his mouth just moved on it’s own! but he might as well just ask what he wanted to. “this.. wouldn’t happen to be our last time meeting up here like this, would it? we’ll do this again, right?”

you giggled, flattered by his enthusiasm. “of course we will.”

che’nya

“that little prank you pulled earlier was not funny.” you whined, softly flicking at his ears.

now that you think of it, it was probably to be expected that he would give you a little spook. it’s late at night, you’re in the woods, everything is completely silent— it was too easy!

“sorry, sorry!” he purred, brushing his tail against your cheek. “oh, earlier, i saw something interesting looking waaay over there!” che’nya pointed far, far away, somewhere near the shore. “i want to check it out!”

“i dunno about that, che’nya…” you muttered. “isn’t it kinda risky? we might get caught if anyone from our schools happens to be out right now. i heard some of my classmates say they’d be out shopping right around now.”

“risk is all part of the fun, my dear.”

che’nya agreed to do these little secret dates without a second thought. he doesn’t care too much about any consequences he could get. and he told you he’s ready to claw at anyone who gives you too much shit for it. (he’s just kidding! …i think)

he likes dragging you around to places rather than just hanging out in a single location, as he hates sitting in one place for too long. whether the place is a pretty sight, there’s something he wants to check out there, or he wants to go just because, you’ll be dragged along. you two are partners in crime. minus the crime.

“i can’t believe the ‘interesting looking thing’ you saw just ended up being a little charm.” you sighed, looking at the small, dusty, star shaped charm sitting in your palm.

“don’t be so down about it. if you tie a long piece of string into the little loop, then tie the ends of the long string together, boom— you’ve got a necklace to remember this night!”

“that’s.. actually a pretty cute idea. i’ll do it when i get back to my dorm.” you smiled, tucking the charm in your pocket.

“hey, let’s find another one of those thingies so you can make a necklace for me too!” che’nya starts looking around the area, and you sigh. you sit down on a tree stump, exhausted from the long walk.

“will we be able to find another one conveniently laying around..? and these things are so small, we’ll be having to search for hours.”

“doesn’t bother me! we can take as long as we need!”

“.. hey, you know we’re heading back to our schools by midnight, right? right?!”

#look at neige being a rebel :’)#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #neige x reader #che’nya x reader #gn reader

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eighty6stories · 2 years

Text

Telephone

Summary: when Eddie is away for a gig and wants some relief, he goes about it in a way you’d never expect.

Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk (lots of it), cursing, general smuttiness.

18+ only; minors DNI

You’d been almost asleep when the phone rang. It was frustrating to be pulled from your rest, even more so when the phone stopped ringing just as you were about to answer it. You huffed in annoyance before rolling back over, only to pause. How many times had it rung? Once, twice, three times. And then silence.

Oh.

Now you weren’t so upset. It was Eddie’s telltale ring, the one he used late at night when he knew you’d ignore the phone if you didn’t know it was him. The next time the phone rang you picked up, tucking the handset against your ear.

“Hey sweetness,” he cooed, and you huffed. “What? Did I wake you?”

“Sort of,” you grumble. “I was almost asleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he soothes, and there’s something sticky sweet about his voice that makes you press your thighs just a little tighter together. “Can I make it up to you?”

You sigh. “How exactly do you plan to do that when you’re so far away?” He and the other members of Corroded Coffin had driven to the city for a gig and as far as you knew they weren’t planning to be back until the next morning.

Eddie blew out a breath, feigning thought. “Well, I dunno. If only there was a way for me to tell you all the dirty things I’d do to you if I was there.” You could hear the rustle of clothes and an inhale from Eddie, his plan suddenly making perfect sense.

“You mean —?”

“Well, sure. You like it when I talk to you, don’t you sweetheart?”

You paused. Yeah, you did like that. It was a tempting offer, you’d just never done anything like it before. But Eddie had offered, and he didn’t seem put off by the idea. A good orgasm had always helped you sleep, too, and if you were going to get back to bed after being so rudely interrupted…

“Okay,” you agreed, and you swore you could hear Eddie’s grin through the phone.

“Get yourself comfortable, princess. Go on, prop up those pillows and take off your shorts.”

You followed his instructions, shimmying out of your pajama shorts and propping your pillows up behind you so you could relax against them. “Okay,” you said, your voice breathy. “But, Eddie? What about you?”

He chuckled darkly against the receiver, sending a shiver up your spine. “Oh, I’m doin’ the same, don’t worry. Got a whole motel room to myself.”

You pictured him spread out across the duvet, the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear, his hand rubbing across the front of his shorts, and groaned. Eddie smirked. “Starting without me?”

“No,” you breathed.

“Good. Close your eyes.”

You did as he asked immediately, letting the sounds of his breathing fill your ears.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned. “If I was there… if I was there I’d take it slow. You know how I love your tits. I’d start there. Put them in my hands and keep them warm. I bet you’d want me to put my mouth on them, Hm? I know how you love that.”

You tuck the phone between your shoulder and ear, dragging your hands up to your chest and tweaking a nipple, huffing softly into the phone. “Yeah,” you agree, and he chuckles.

“Don’t think I could for very long, though. Think I’d want to eat that pretty pussy instead.” You groan unabashedly. “Why don’t you take your pretty fingers and tease yourself, baby. Drag them slowly down your sides to your hips and stop. Don’t touch until I say you can.”

You whimper, but follow his every instruction. Your skin tingles to life as you trace lines on your skin, stopping at your hips like he asked. Surely he wouldn’t know if you touched yourself, would he? He wasn’t there. But you know he’d find out, you know he’d be able to tell, and so you hold off.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“I know, baby. I know. I’ll be nice.” You sigh in relief. “Tell me how wet you are.” His voice is low, lust evident in every syllable.

“I’m —“ You swipe a finger lower, groaning at the feeling of your own slick. “—fuck, I’m so wet, Eddie. Please.”

“Think you should touch yourself then, baby. Go on.“

You sink your middle finger into your heat, sighing into the phone. “Want you to-to touch yourself, too,” you bite out, and you can hear something new on the other end of the line.

“Have been since you picked up, baby,” Eddie admits, and you sink another finger in alongside the first, moaning as you try to mimic what Eddie usually does. “You sound so pretty, baby. So fuckin’ pretty.”

It’s not enough. You’re burning up from the inside, from hearing Eddie speak to you gruffly and imagining how he looks touching himself and pretending he’s there with you, but something is missing and it isn’t enough so you whine.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” He coos, his tone almost condescending.

“It’s not you,” you whine. “Not the same.”

“No,” he says, hissing as he tugs at his cock. “It’s not me. I’d be using my mouth. But I think I know what you’re missing. Mhmm. Think you oughta rub your clit. Tell me how good it feels.”

You moan again, your other hand snaking down to find your clit. You gasp when you find it, pressing slow circles into the bud. “Good girl,” Eddie groans. “Fuck, you sound so pretty. Sound so pretty for me, fucking yourself on your fingers. Wish I could hear your cunt.”

You flush. “You want to?” You ask, and pull the phone from your ear with the same hand that had just been circling your clit. You check that the cord is long enough before lowering it to the apex of your thighs, fucking your fingers into your heat hard enough that he can hear. You swear you can hear him groan even with the phone away from your ear.

“Eddie?” You ask, when you’ve tucked the phone back against your shoulder.

“Fuck, baby, you really are soaked,” he moans, and you can hear the desperation in his voice. “Think you can add another finger for me? One more? One more.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, wriggling a third finger into your cunt as you drop your other hand to your clit again. Your fingers seek out the spot Eddie always uses to make you feel good.

“T-talk to me,” you huff.

“Wish you were here,” he grunts. “Wish you’d been at the show. Woulda fucked you so hard after. Woulda taken you to the bathroom and bent you over the counter and fucked you silly. And then, when — fuck — when we made it back to the motel, I would’ve fucked you again.”

You close your eyes, imagining it’s his fingers inside of you instead of your own. It still doesn’t feel the same, but with Eddie’s lurid descriptions in your ear you can feel a crest building anyway.

“Ohh, pretty girl, moan for me again. Please? Please? Wanna hear you, wanna pretend it’s you touching me.”

You moan loudly, half on command and half in response to his words. Eddie mimicks you and you swallow, your eyebrows creasing together.

“Wanna come,” you whimper. “Please, w-wanna come.”

“Do you?” He asked, and you can hear his breath hitch, a telltale sign he’s increasing the pace of his hand on his cock. “Talk me through it. Talk me through it and you can come.”

You’re not sure how to do that, or even if you can, but you nod anyway. “Thinkin’ about your cock,” you admit. “How-how good it feels when you fuck me. Better than my fingers, so much better, Eddie. Don’t feel full enough on my own.” He groans and you reverse the circles you’re drawing on your clit. “Gonna keep you in this bed when you get back. Make you - make you fuck me like you said.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, but you’re hardly listening.

“Eddie, feels so good,” you whimper. “Feels… can feel it coming. Can feel myself getting closer.”

“That’s it, baby. Keep at it. Come for me. Make yourself feel good.”

You open your mouth to talk but all that comes out is a moan, a strangled start to Eddie’s name as you whimper that you’re right there, crashing over the edge as Eddie listens to you.

“God, you sound so hot when you cum,” he moans, and you fight through your haze to get a little bit more out of this.

“Your turn,” you pant. “Wanna hear you cum, Eddie. Wanna hear you. Pretend it’s me. Hot and wet and tight around you.”

He groans and it sounds strangled. You smile to yourself. “I’m gonna hang up if you don’t, Eddie. Let me hear you. Come on.”

He groans again. “Fuck, princess, who taught you to talk like that?”

“You did.”

“Fuck me,” he groans. “Gonna have to wash that pretty mouth out when I get home.”

“Or you could just fuck it,” you suggest, voice light and innocent, and that’s all he needs. He comes loudly and unabashedly, choking out your name amid colorful expletives until suddenly he goes silent and all you can hear is his panting breaths.

“Eddie?”

“Shh,” he hushes. It’s silent for a moment before you hear the clink of his belt and the thud of something heavy.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m better than okay,” he says.

“What’s that noise?”

“My suitcase. Fuck staying in the city. I’m comin’ home. You’d better sleep while you can, pretty girl. When I get back I’m going to make you cum all over again. Sleep tight, love.”

You shiver, but return the sentiment, returning the phone to its cradle and rolling over in bed. If Eddie’s going to make good on his promise, he’s right — you will need your sleep.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my work #eddie munson fanfic

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peach-and-bugs · 1 year

Note

I'm so glad someone's taking requests for YJ! But I'd like to ask for adult Misty x reader with dialogue 3 please!

💗Confessional - Misty Quigley (2021) x fem!Reader💗

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: Misty doesn't know the difference between a crush and a squish (the want to be close to someone in a friend way) and is quite surprised when she realizes the difference!

Warnings: mention of cannon death and body disposal (Adam) and alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2,385

A/N: Hello Loves! It's Misty's turn! I absolutely love Misty and she's definitely in my top three favorite characters. But honestly, she's kind of hard to write for, so I don't know how much I like this one. Fortunately, I do have more requests for her, so she isn't going away anywhere and I've got time to work more with her. This was another Yellowjackets dialogue request, so feel free to send in anything you'd like with Misty or another one of the girls with one of the prompts! but as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading 💗

Misty Quigley Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💗-

Misty entered her house with a rather loud sigh and a crash from the slamming of her backdoor. She practically threw her groceries on the counter, mumbling under her breath as she left them be to get something to drink from her fridge. She said fuck it and cracked open a coke, taking one long swig before setting it back on the counter and returning to the grocery bags. However, she was interrupted once again by a knock at her front door that had Caligula squawking. He must have been frustrated by all the interruptions as well. She grumbled again and maneuvered through her house to the door, opening it with far more vigor than she’d intended to. She was startled to find you at her door at this hour and she seemed to have startled you as well.

“y/n! I wasn’t expecting you,” she forced with a shiny smile. You chuckled, relaxed, and smiled as well. Misty had known you for quite some time now, however, most of that time had been spent over online citizen detective forums and eventually texting and phone calls before you finally met up in a local coffee shop a month or so ago. After that, you’d kept in pretty regular contact. Shed decided recently that she liked you. And considering that Caligila had gotten comfortable with you holding and petting him quite quickly you must be a good pick after all.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop in so suddenly but you'd been so quiet lately and I dunno, I got worried,” you grew shy as you gave her your reasoning, absently brushing loose hair behind your ear. “Oh! And I brought cookies,” you added, wrinkling your nose as you smiles. Misty grinned, enjoying the concern, and shrugged.

“It’s alright, I’ve been helping my friends with something is all. Do you want to come in? I was just putting groceries away before prepping dinner,”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother-”

“Nonsense!” she chirped, reaching out her hand to take yours and tug you inside. She managed to take your purse from your shoulder and hang it on one of the free hooks by her door. “I’ll cook for us and we can catch up. What have the forums been talking about? I haven't had the time to read any of them,” she fibbed as she made her way into the kitchen with you trailing behind. She flicked on the small radio on her kitchen windowsill to whatever random radio station she'd been listening to previously.

“Oh! Did you hear about that Adam guy on the news? Some people online have been looking into that. It looks like someone could have been behind him going missing,” Misty had to refrain from physically cringing at that comment, seeing as how she’d just come home from the dead man’s apartment and the funeral in which she eliminated the crucial parts of his identification.

“Pfft, that case? That’s going nowhere. He probably just hopped on a boat and is across the world by now. I bet something will come out about money laundering or something eventually,” she flat-out fibbed as she pulled carrots and celery out of her grocery bags to put them into her fridge while you stood awkwardly holding your plate of cookies in hand.

“Um ok,” you mumbled “Well, is there anything I can do to help you? I wouldn’t want to just stand in the way,” you chuckled nervously. Why you found so nervous Misty couldn’t tell, but there seemed to be a strange feeling in the kitchen's air, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But she smiled again and looked down at her grocery bags, holding her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers as she contemplated what she could have you do.

“Ah! Why don’t you give those to me and start boiling some water while I finish unpacking this, hm,” she suggested as she began digging through one of the paper bags, to pull out a newly bought bag of spaghetti noodles which she offered to you in exchange for the plate in your hands. After a second you initiated the exchange and made your way to the stove as Misty pulled out a pot for you to boil.

You scooted around each other in the small space as you filled the pot and she continued organizing her groceries. Every few seconds your hand would brush against the small of her back so naturally that she might not have noticed, so when she needed to move past you she’d gently cup your hip, though it was more like her hand hovering over you. Even so, she still thought she could feel the prickling of your skin under her touch. It was endearing, she realized, to have that sort of effect on someone, though that's how friends were supposed to make each other feel. So, you were her friend now. That was nice.

“How much of this do you want me to make?” you asked her as you opened the bag.

“Just dump it all in there. I can eat the rest over the week for my lunches at work,” she decided as she pulled the ingredients she wanted to use for her sauce and meatballs. She had leftover sauce from when she’d made it before at a far larger portion size than she had intended to that was still good and she pulled out some of the new ground beef she’d bought along with bread crumbs, eggs, garlic, and an assortment of other spices.

She began organizing her ingredients before rolling out her meatballs, but before any of that, she got her sauce back on the stove to warm up next to you in a large saucepan. She casually checked on the noodled, which you were salting and they seemed to be coming along quite nicely. She moved back to her meatballs as her sauce was going by you with a lid on, but as she made the last part of the meal she couldn’t notice that strange feeling again.

She wasn’t sure who it could be coming from, if not from the both of you, but something other than the smell of dinner was in the air. The strangest part was how it was such a comforting feeling to Misty. There was something so natural about having you in her kitchen with her. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seemed to make many friends into her adulthood, besides her high school friends, of course, though they didn’t seem to talk much anymore. Could it just be that you were here and interested in being with her? You had come to check on her when she’d been quiet after all. That had to be it then.

She tossed the meatballs into the now boiling sauce to cook. She stood next to you awkwardly for a moment before reaching over you for a ladle to scoop some of your pasta water to add to her sauce, which she stirred around. You unexpectedly moved to take the ladle from her, accidentally taking hold of her hand in the process. She noticed the way your eyes widened eyes dilating for a moment or so, which she found quite curious. She tuned in long enough to realize what song was now playing. It was one her mother used to play when she was a child.

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

Her eyes scanned over your face. You bit your bottom lip, taking it into your mouth

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

She let go of the ladle and smiled.

“I need to go feed Caligula and get the table ready,” she said quickly, taking a step back from you. She turned on her heels and rushed far faster than she had intended out of the kitchen and into her lounge and to her bird’s cage. He squealed quietly and Misty smiled, opening the door to the cage and petting the bird’s head. He cooed, shitting his eyes as he nuzzled into the palm of her hand.

“Caligula, do you have any idea what’s going on with me?” she murmured as the bird climbed on her hand, up her arm, and onto her shoulder as she went to throw away the uneaten food in his dish and refill it for dinner. He began messing with her hair, preening her as he always did at dinnertime. Misty craned her neck to peek into the kitchen, quietly watching as you walked across the room to find plates and utensils and a strainer for the noodles.

Misty finished refreshing Caligula’s dinner, coaxing the bird back into his cage to eat and she shut the door behind him. She moved on into the dining room, still keeping an eye on you. As she did, she opened a drawer and found an old candle setting along with a lighter she’d never gotten around to using. She figured out why not and arranged the setting, as well as two table placements on the table, dimming the overhead lighting as you walked in with two full plates.

You paused at the dining room’s entryway, staring at the candles and the table settings placed one at the head of the table and the other directly diagonal to it on the long end of the table. When you didn’t move Misty took the plaits from you and set them both down before trotting off into the kitchen.

“Now, I have a pinot noir, but I’ve also got a cabernet sauvignon that is just divine!” she allied from the kitchen. You didn’t reply as she rummaged through her cabinets for two glasses. You hadn’t moved from where you stood just yet and noticed after looking back. “y/n, you alright?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity. You perked up at the sound of your name and skirted to take your seat at the table.

“Oh! Um, you made the cabernet sauvignon sound very good,” you answered in a rushed attempt at sounding normal that Misty didn’t quite pick up on. She grabbed what she was told, along with a wine opener, and made her way back to the table. She stood as she opened the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each a glass, which you tentatively grabbed, and took a few confident sips as Misty took her seat and her fork to dig in. You paused for a moment, messing with your hands in your lap before eating.

“Misty, I have a confession,” you started, not looking up from your hands.

“Well, it better not be to a murder because I can’t deal with that right now,” she answered back without the skip of a beat. You looked up, quite puzzled, and scrunched your brow.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” you asked, nose wrinkling. Misty fully looked up and finished what she was chewing, covering her mouth with her hand as she realized your reaction.

“Oh! No, I just mean I’ve been a little stressed lately is all, but I'm only joking, I promise!” she could tell she hadn’t recovered well at all as she could practically feel the way you cringed and clenched your teeth, pulling back from her, eyes refusing to meet hers. Had you always been this shy with her? You sighed, pulling her from her thoughts.

“You know what, this was a bad idea. I need to go,” you said rather rushed as she had moments prior. Before she had time to react you'd left your seat and headed back to the front door. Misty heard the jingle of your keys and the click of her front door before she got up, frantically wiping her mouth with her napkin.

“y/n?” she called, watching you slip out the door before she began to sprint in its direction. By the time she made it to the door, you’d made your way down her front steps and were headed to her car. “y/n!” she yelled fully now, a strained crack in her voice. You stopped in your tracks, fearing the attention she might bring but it gave her enough time to grab onto your hand tight and stop you. Adrenaline had started pumping in a way that felt like fear, but of what she couldn’t pinpoint.

“y/n, did I do something,” she asked quickly, her eyes frantically searching her face. You seemed startled by the sudden desperation in her grasp and her voice and you bit your lip, your brown scrunching as you frowned but shook your head.

“No, it’s just stupid,” Misty squeezed your hand and reached up to turn your cheek to look at her.

“No it’s not, tell me. I promise whatever it is it's not stupid. I’d never find anything you say stupid,” she insisted. You met her eyes finally and sighed with defeat.

“I was going to ask you on a date,” you said in what could only be described as a whisper. Misty perked up, confused.

“A date?” she questioned. She felt your cheek burn under her fingertips.

“Yes! A date! I know it's silly, and I’m acting like a child but,” Misty grinned, vibrating with excitement.

“I’d love a date with you!” she exclaimed.

“What?” you were the confused one now.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” Misty mused, practically purring.

“Well, yes I’ve always liked you-” you started.

“But I mean I didn’t know you liked me,” she reiterated, accentuating what she meant. You grew shy again.

“Well, I didn’t know either but I got so nervous with the cooking and the candles,”

“Then this can be our date!” Misty decided.

“Really?” you chuckled under your breath. She’d gotten you to laugh and that was even more exciting than getting asked on a date.

“Yes! I’d love to take you back in and on our date,” you chuckled again (she got you to laugh again!) and nodded. Misty eagerly led you back inside and realized just what she must have been feeling before after all.

#fanfiction requests #fic request #◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets requests #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #misty quigley #misty quigley x reader #misty quigey x y/n

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abstractnaturaldisaster · 1 year

Text

Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU

I’m so sorry this is an angsty one again but it ends hopefully (and the whole fic ends happy I promise, no bummers 2k23).

Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Part Four I Part Five I Part Six I Also on AO3!

Robin was running late. It wasn’t unusual but she did try to make an effort for Steve who was way too understanding about it. She had overslept and by the time she was up, Steve had already made a pot of coffee and left for the studio. Robin poured the rest into a travel mug and sped out the door texting Steve she was on her way.

“Steve! I’m so sorry I totally missed my alarm.” She said as she ran back into the small back office.

“It’s all good,” Steve answered. He seemed off to Robin. She started getting set up at the front to go through and organize Steve’s books and work on the shop’s instagram when she noticed that Steve hadn’t picked up Eddie’s flowers yet.

“Are you going to grab lunch with Eddie today?” Robin asked.

“Oh, no. Probably not. I mean he’s probably busy with Valentine’s orders or whatever.”

Robin knew something was wrong then. Steve and Eddie had been hanging out pretty regularly since their happy hour and Robin couldn’t remember the last time they didn’t at least drop off lunch for each other on busy days. “Do you need to run over to pick up your bouquet? The front desk is looking a little bare.”

“Not today, Robs.” Steve answered.

“Okay, Steve, now I know something is wrong. What’s up? Did Eddie do something?”

“No, I mean. It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Steve said.

“Steve, I’m here if you need me.” Robin patted his shoulder.

“I just thought he was different. Like he got what I was doing here, Robin,” Steve sighed. “I mean we were hanging out and I showed him some of my sketches of his flowers and told him how much I think they’d be a great tattoo for him and I dunno he got super standoffish about it. He just kind of left and honestly I can’t deal with trying to validate myself and my art to someone else. I’m just so tired of it.”

Robin took Steve in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, babe. He seemed like he wouldn’t be the type. I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, Robin. I mean I guess I should have expected it with his whole metal vibe or whatever.” Steve said. “I’ll be okay. I’m mostly used to it. I gotta go get ready for my client.” Steve stood and walked out of the back room to start preparing the space for his appointment.

Robin was at a loss. Eddie had honestly seemed so different from the last few people Steve had been interested in. She felt like she was missing pieces. Robin didn’t want to betray Steve’s trust but also she didn’t want Steve to lose Eddie. She decided to text Chrissy a code red to meet at a coffee shop nearby asap.

Chrissy showed up shortly after Robin had ordered and sat down. “Hey Robin. I’m going to hear you out because you’re my friend out but I’m pretty pissed at Steve.”

“We’re on the same page, Chris. I had half a mind to go yell at Eddie first but I’m worried about Steve and I think maybe there’s something he’s missing.” Robin said. “Can we just talk through what happened? I have a feeling our boys are being purposefully dense about something.”

“I didn’t get much out of Eddie. He was in quite the mood this morning. But I can maybe help decipher some of the Eddieisms,” Chrissy answered.

“Perfect. Okay so here’s what I know. Steve and Eddie were hanging out last night. Steve’s been working on these sketches of Eddie’s flowers because he’s terrible at expressing his feelings like a normal person. I guess he showed them to Eddie and Eddie gave him shit about it when Steve said he’d like to tattoo Eddie.”

“All I got out of Eddie was that he thought Steve was a pretentious shit about tattoos. He was grumbling all morning about rich kids and not understanding growing up without access to everything.”

Robin was starting to put the pieces together. Steve had grown up in a pretty wealthy suburb of Chicago and his parents had supported him for most of his life. It was only when he’d decided to become a tattoo artist that he lost that support and he was still a little bit of an idiot about money.

“Chrissy, I’m going to share something pretty personal about Steve and I’m only doing this because I think this was all a giant misunderstanding and if you or Eddie use this information to hurt Steve they will never find your bodies.”

“Understood.” Chrissy answered.

“So, Steve doesn’t ever tattoo friends or family. It’s something he has held absolutely firm on since he apprenticed. He tells people it’s because he doesn’t want to have to look at his work all the time or jokes that he’d just find flaws in it and want to fix it. Knowing Steve, I think that’s just part of the issue. I think he’s scared to give something so permanent to someone. He’s had a lot of people just leave him and I don’t think he could stand it if he tattooed a friend and they left. He takes his work super seriously. I know he can come off as an asshole but he’s had to build up a pretty thick skin doing the type of tattoos he does. He’s gotten a lot of shit for being too feminine. It sounds like he took whatever reaction Eddie had to their talk yesterday as a rejection of him. Steve’s worked so hard to be comfortable with himself and he definitely already thought Eddie was way too cool for him so I think his ego is probably a little bit bruised.” Robin knew she had been monologuing so she took a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding and drank some of her coffee.

“Robin, I can’t promise anything, but I will talk to Eddie.”

“That’s all I want. I’m sorry I know this is a super weird place for us to be but I think maybe the guys just need a little help getting over themselves.” Robin said.

Chrissy was glad Robin had told her about what Steve said. Eddie was kind of closed book but before he’d gotten to know Steve, Eddie would be a little judgy about the fancy studio and the cost. Eddie had tattoos but they were mostly things friends gave him in exchange for his help moving or to commemorate a big show or something. He’d never really had money to invest in any bigger tattoos. Chrissy knew Eddie hadn’t grown up rich but other than that her knowledge of his childhood was pretty limited. Even over the years Chrissy had known Eddie she’d only picked up small pieces of Eddie’s upbringing. He didn’t share a lot but he grew up with pretty shitty parents. His mom had died when Eddie was pretty young so when his dad went to prison at some point Eddie went to live with his uncle in a trailer park in the Chicago suburbs. His uncle didn’t have much but he made a home for Eddie. Chrissy thought something Steve had said to Eddie hit a little too close to his past and Eddie’s defenses had shot back up. She didn’t know if she could get him to come back around but Eddie had been noticeably happier with Steve and she figured it was at least worth a try.

“Eddie! I need to talk to you!” Chrissy yelled as she walked back into the flower shop.

“No time. Heading back out on delivery.” Eddie grumbled as he walked past her out to the van

“Then I’m going with you.” Chrissy jumped into the passenger seat before Eddie could peel out into the street.

“Fine.”

Chrissy let Eddie stew in silence as the van started up. She was surprised not to hear Eddie’s usual metal soundtrack. Eddie quickly went to pull the cassette out of the tape player but Chrissy had caught enough of the opening to recognize it.

“Jesus, Eddie. I didn’t know it was You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling, bad.” Chrissy had discovered the Hall & Oates tape shortly after it had been added to the van’s usual rotation of cassettes. When she asked about it, Eddie had blamed Steve with a goofy smile on his face.

“Chris, not today.”

“Can I say one thing and then we can go back to not talking about it?” Chrissy asked.

“Fine.”

“Okay great. Robin told me about something that happened between you and Steve last night. I know it’s your business and I promised to leave it alone but I am just here to give information. It’s up to you if you do anything with it. First, I know we made fun of all the pretentious hipster vibes of Steve’s shop when he first moved in but I really thought you of all people would know not to judge a book by its cover. Second, you have to know Steve is super into you by now. I mean y’all are basically always together if you’re not working.”

“That’s not true. I do other stuff.” Eddie interrupted.

“Sure, whatever you say. Stop interrupting me. I know you’re sensitive about your past and I also know you haven’t said anything to Steve about your parents so do you think you might have been a little harsh last night?”

Eddie has pulled into their first stop and jumped out of the van to make the drop off. Chrissy waited for him to get back.

“One more thing, and then I promise you can blare whatever shitty break up song you need to for the rest of the day. I think maybe you’re pushing Steve away because he scares you. It’s been forever since you’ve been with anyone seriously. Steve seems so good for you. I don’t know what he said that made your walls slam back up but maybe he didn’t mean it the way you thought he did? You’re kind of an intimidating person to be vulnerable with.”

Chrissy let Eddie process what she said for the rest of the delivery route. They got back to the shop late and started closing up. When Chrissy had packed up for the day she went to give Eddie a hug and held him close for a little longer than usual.

“I’m here if you need me but please just sleep on it before you make any rash decisions?” Chrissy said as she let go of Eddie.

Eddie nodded and went back to cleaning up his work bench to get ready for another day of Valentine’s induced hell. It was absolutely the worst time for Eddie to have any sort of relationship drama because he’d be surrounded by love hearts for a least two more days. Eddie laughed at himself for that. He’d have to actually have been in a relationship to have relationship drama. He was an idiot. Steve reminded Eddie of his worst high school bullies. The guys who called him trailer trash and pushed him into lockers after Eddie had been caught kissing a guy under the bleachers. Logically, Eddie knew Steve wasn’t that way. He had obviously had to deal with his own shit coming up in the tattoo industry. Eddie still hadn’t been able to shake his old feelings of inadequacy when Steve asked if he wanted an “actual” tattoo. He’d felt people’s gaze lingering on his shitty stick and pokes he’d done with friends or let people use him for practice. He’d overheard the comments people made when he went to deliver flowers at fancy office buildings. Eddie hadn’t felt that same level of judgment from Steve but he figured it was just a matter of time. Steve obviously put a lot of time and effort into his tattoos and he must think badly about Eddie’s more cavalier attitude to the markings.

As Eddie cleaned, he kept working through last night at Steve’s. Chrissy was probably right and that Steve hadn’t meant anything negative and just used the exact wrong phrasing. In fact, looking back, Steve seemed super nervous and worried about Eddie’s reaction. Why Steve was anxious Eddie had no idea. Steve’s sketch was probably the most beautiful tattoo idea he’d ever seen. He’d be honored to get something like from Steve. But of course Eddie hadn’t actually said any of that to Steve after he started freaking out. Stupid.

As Eddie made his way upstairs to get to bed, he was truly exhausted but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Chrissy had said on their afternoon delivery route. Fuck. He owed Steve a pretty big apology. That had to be tomorrow Eddie’s problem; he was too tired to handle it now. Eddie drifted off to sleep thinking about Steve’s feet in his lap and maybe future nerdy movie nights while crossing his fingers he hadn’t fucked up too badly yesterday.

***

Part Eight!

I am at such a loss for word that y’all are still hanging with me! I think there’s going to be three more parts of the main story and then maybe some side plots in the same universe. After I wrap up on tumblr I’ll post it to AO3 so it’s all in one place for future reading! c:

I am also obsessed with the big green couch and I am very happy to you all appreciate it to.

My taglist got super messed up last update so please let me know if I’ve missed anyone or added anyone by accident! Y’all are the best!!

Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @blisschaoss @vecnuthy @grimmfitzz @spectrum-spectre @croatoan-like-its-hot @momotonescreaming @beckkthewreck @korixae @citrus-owl @baron-zemo-trash @sleepdeprivedflower @nuagedemots @lololol-1234 @books-and-current-obsessions @acrolius @mightbeasleep @vi-an-te @gregre369 @i-must-potato @vampireinthesun @steveisabicon @child-of-cthulhu @whimsicalwitchm @aceflavouredyougurt @that-bi-gremlin99 @oxidantdreamboat @goodolefashionedloverboi @notaqueenakhaleesi @briceslayed @raisedbylibrarians @bejeweledbaby @avacrebs @magpiemuseum @majesticenbypancake

#my fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tattoo artist steve #florist eddie #stranger things #tattoo parlor / flower shop AU

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